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diff --git a/38068.txt b/38068.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e82759 --- /dev/null +++ b/38068.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7562 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Essays on Modern Novelists, by William Lyon Phelps + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Essays on Modern Novelists + +Author: William Lyon Phelps + +Release Date: November 20, 2011 [EBook #38068] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS ON MODERN NOVELISTS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Cathy Maxam and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ESSAYS + ON + MODERN NOVELISTS + + BY + WILLIAM LYON PHELPS + + M.A. (HARVARD), PH.D. (YALE) + + FORMERLY INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH AT HARVARD + LAMPSON PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE AT YALE + + New York + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + 1910 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + + +PREFACE + + +Some of the essays in this volume have appeared in recent numbers of +various periodicals. The essays on "Mark Twain" and "Thomas Hardy" were +originally printed in the _North American Review_; those on "Mrs. Ward" +and "Rudyard Kipling," in the _Forum_; those on "Alfred Ollivant," +"Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson," and "Novels as a University Study," in the +_Independent_. The same magazine contained a portion of the present +essay on "Lorna Doone," while the article on "The Teacher's Attitude +toward Contemporary Literature" was written for the _Chicago Interior_. +My friend, Mr. Andrew Keogh, Reference Librarian of Yale University, has +been kind enough to prepare the List of Publications, thereby increasing +my debt to him for many previous favours. + +W. L. P. + +YALE UNIVERSITY, +Tuesday, _5 October, 1909_. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + WILLIAM DE MORGAN 1 + + THOMAS HARDY 33 + + WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS 56 + + BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON 82 + + MARK TWAIN 99 + + HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ 115 + + HERMANN SUDERMANN 132 + + ALFRED OLLIVANT 159 + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 172 + + MRS. HUMPHRY WARD 191 + + RUDYARD KIPLING 208 + + "LORNA DOONE" 229 + + APPENDICES 245 + + A. NOVELS AS A UNIVERSITY STUDY 245 + + B. THE TEACHER'S ATTITUDE TOWARD CONTEMPORARY + LITERATURE 252 + + C. TWO POEMS 258 + + LIST OF PUBLICATIONS 261 + + + + +ESSAYS ON MODERN NOVELISTS + + + + +I + +WILLIAM DE MORGAN + + +"How can you know whether you are successful or not at forty-one? How do +you know you won't have a tremendous success, all of a sudden? +Yes--after another ten years, perhaps--but _some_ time! And then twenty +years of real, happy work. It has all been before, this sort of thing. +Why not you?" Thus spoke the hopeful Alice to the despairing Charley; +and it makes an interesting comment on the very man who wrote the +conversation, and created the speakers. It has indeed "all been before, +this sort of thing"; only when an extremely clever person, whose friends +have always been saying, with an exclamation rather than an +interrogation point appended, "Why don't you write a novel!" ... waits +until he has passed his grand climacteric, he displays more faith in +Providence than in himself. All of which is as it should be. Keats died +at the age of twenty-five, but, from where I am now writing, I can +reach his Poetical Works almost without leaving my chair; he is among +the English Poets. Had Mr. De Morgan died at the age of twenty-five? The +answer is, he didn't. I am no great believer in mute, inglorious +Miltons, nor do I think that I daily pass potential novelists in the +street. Life is shorter than Art, as has frequently been observed; but +it seems long enough for Genius. Genius resembles murder in that it +_will_ out; you can no more prevent its expression than you can prevent +the thrush from singing his song twice over. Crabbed age and youth have +their peculiar accent. Keats, with all his glory, could not have written +_Joseph Vance_, and Mr. De Morgan, with all his skill in ceramics, could +not have fashioned the _Ode on a Grecian Urn_. + +Sir Thomas Browne, who loved miracles, did not hesitate to classify the +supposed importance of the grand climacteric as a vulgar error; he +included a whole quaint chapter on the subject, in that old curiosity +shop of literature, the _Pseudodoxia Epidemica_. "And so perhaps hath it +happened unto the number 7. and 9. which multiplyed into themselves doe +make up 63. commonly esteemed the great Climactericall of our lives; for +the dayes of men are usually cast up by septenaries, and every seventh +yeare conceived to carry some altering character with it, either in the +temper of body, minde, or both; but among all other, three are most +remarkable, that is, 7. times 7. or forty-nine, 9. times 9. or +eighty-one, and 7. times 9. or the yeare of sixty-three; which is +conceived to carry with it, the most considerable fatality, and +consisting of both the other numbers was apprehended to comprise the +vertue of either, is therefore expected and entertained with feare, and +esteemed a favour of fate to pass it over; which notwithstanding many +suspect but to be a Panick terrour, and men to feare they justly know +not what; and for my owne part, to speak indifferently, I find no +satisfaction, nor any sufficiency in the received grounds to establish a +rationall feare." + +Among various strong reasons against this superstition, Dr. Browne +presents the impressive argument shown by the Patriarchs: "the lives of +our forefathers presently after the flood, and more especially before +it, who, attaining unto 8. or 900. yeares, had not their Climacters +computable by digits, or as we doe account them; for the great +Climactericall was past unto them before they begat children, or gave +any Testimony of their virilitie, for we read not that any begat +children before the age of sixtie five." + +The strange case of William De Morgan would have deeply interested Sir +Thomas, and he would have given it both full and minute consideration. +For it was just after he had safely passed the climacterical year of +sixty-three, that our now famous novelist began what is to us the most +important chapter of his life, the first chapter of _Joseph Vance_; and, +like the Patriarchs, it was only after he had reached the age of +sixty-five that he became fruitful, producing those wonderful children +of his brain that are to-day everywhere known and loved. Poets ripen +early; if a man comes to his twenty-fifth birthday without having +written some things supremely well, he may in most instances abandon all +hope of immortality in song; but to every would-be novelist it is +reasonable to whisper those encouraging words, "while there's life +there's hope." Of the ten writers who may be classed as the greatest +English novelists, only one--Charles Dickens--published a good novel +before the age of thirty. Defoe's first fiction of any consequence was +_Robinson Crusoe_, printed in 1719; he was then fifty-eight years old. +Richardson had turned fifty before his earliest novel appeared. And +although I can think at this moment of no case exactly comparable with +that of the author of _Joseph Vance_, it is a book to which experience +has contributed as well as inspiration, and would be something, if not +inferior, at all events very different, had it been composed in early or +in middle life. For it vibrates with the echoes of a long gallery, whose +walls are crowded with interesting pictures. + +The recent Romantic Revival has produced many novels that have enjoyed a +brief and noisy popularity; its worst effects are noticeable on the +minds of readers, unduly stimulated by the constant perusal of +rapid-fire fiction. Many will not read further than the fourth page, +unless some casualties have already occurred. To every writer who starts +with some deliberation, they shout, "Leave your damnable faces and +begin." Authors who produce for immediate consumption are prepared for +this; so are the more clever men who write the publishers' +advertisements. An announcement of a new work by an exceedingly +fashionable novelist was headed by the appetising line, "This book goes +with a rush, and ends with a smash." That would hardly do as a +description of _Clarissa Harlowe_, _Wilhelm Meister_, or some other +classics. To a highly nervous and irritably impatient reading public, a +man whose name had no commercial value in literature gravely offered in +the year of grace 1906 an "ill-written autobiography" of two hundred and +eighty thousand words! Well, the result is what might _not_ have been +expected. If ever a confirmed optimist had reason to feel justification +of his faith, Mr. De Morgan must have seen it in the reception given to +his first novel. + +Despite the great length of Mr. De Morgan's books, and the leisurely +passages of comment and rather extraneous detail, he never _begins_ +slowly. No producer of ephemeral trash, no sensation-monger, has ever +got under way with more speed, or taken a swifter initial plunge into +the very heart of action. One memorable day in 1873, Count Tolstoi +picked up a little story by Pushkin, which his ten-year-old son had been +reading aloud to a member of the family. The great Russian glanced at +the first sentence, "The guests began to assemble the evening before the +_fete_." He was mightily pleased. "That's the way to begin a story!" he +cried. "The reader is taken by one stroke into the midst of the action. +Another writer would have commenced by describing the guests, the rooms, +while Pushkin--he goes straight at his goal." Some of those in the room +laughed, and suggested that Tolstoi himself appropriate such a beginning +and write a novel. He immediately retired and wrote the first sentences +of _Anna Karenina_; which is literally the manner in which that +masterpiece came into being.[1] Now if one will open any of Mr. De +Morgan's works, he will find the procedure that Tolstoi praised. +Something immediately happens--happens before we have any idea of the +real character of the agents, and before we hardly know where we are. +Indeed, the first chapter of _Somehow Good_ may serve as an artistic +model for the commencement of a novel. It is written with extraordinary +vivacity and spirit. But the author understands better how to begin his +works than he does how to end them. The close of _Joseph Vance_ is like +the mouth of the Mississippi, running off into the open sea through a +great variety of passages. The ending of _Alice-for-Short_ is +accomplished only by notes, comment, and citations. And _Somehow Good_ +is simply snipped off, when it might conceivably have proceeded on its +way. His fourth novel is the only one that ends as well as it begins. + +[1] _Leon Tolstoi: Vie et OEuvres. Memoires par P. Birukov. Traduction +Francaise_, Tome III, p. 177. + +You cannot judge books, any more than you can individuals, by the first +words they say. If I could only discover somewhere some man, woman, or +child who had not read _Joseph Vance_, I should like to tell him the +substance of the first chapter, and ask him to guess what sort of a +story had awakened my enthusiasm. Suppose some person who had never +heard of Browning should stumble on _Pauline_, and read the first three +lines:-- + + "Pauline, mine own, bend o'er me--thy soft breast + Shall pant to mine--bend o'er me--thy sweet eyes, + And loosened hair and breathing lips, and arms" + +one sees the sharp look of expectation on the reader's face, and one +almost laughs aloud to think what there is in store for him. He will +very soon exhibit symptoms of bewilderment, and before he has finished +the second page he will push the book aside with an air of pious +disappointment. No slum story ever opened more promisingly than _Joseph +Vance_. We are led at the very start into a dirty rum-shop; there +immediately ensues a fight between two half-drunken loafers in the +darkness without; this results in the double necessity of the police and +the hospital; and a broken bottle, found against a dead cat, is the +missile employed to destroy a human eye. In _Alice-for-Short_, the first +chapter shows us a ragged little girl of six carrying a jug of beer from +a public-house to a foul basement, where dwell her father and mother, +both victims of alcohol. The police again. On the third page of _Somehow +Good_, we have the "fortune to strike on a rich vein of so-called life +in a London slum." The hero gives a drunken, murderous scoundrel a "blow +like the kick of a horse, that lands fairly on the eye socket with a +cracking concussion that can be heard above the tumult, and is followed +by a roar of delight from the male vermin." Once more the police. _It +Never Can Happen Again_ begins in a corner of London unspeakably vile. + +Zola and Gorky at their best, and worst--for it is sometimes hard to +make the distinction--have not often surpassed the first chapters of Mr. +De Morgan's four novels. Never has a writer waded more unflinchingly +into the slime. And yet the very last word to characterise these books +would be the word "slum-stories." The foundations of Mr. De Morgan's +work, like the foundations of cathedrals, are deep in the dirt; but the +total impression is one of exceeding beauty. Indeed, with our novelist's +conception of life, as a progress toward something high and sublime, +where evil not only exists, but is a necessary factor in development, +the darkness of the shadows proves the intense radiance of the sun. The +planet Venus is so bright, we are accustomed to remark, that it +sometimes casts a shadow. Christopher Vance emerges from beastly +degradation to a position of power, influence, and usefulness; the Heath +family, in receiving Alice, entertain an angel unawares; and the march +of _Somehow Good_ goes from hell, through purgatory, and into paradise. +It is a divine comedy, in more ways than one; and shows that sometimes +the goal of ill is very unlike the start. + +We had not read far into _Joseph Vance_ before we shouted _Dickens +Redivivus!_ or some equivalent remark in the vernacular. We made this +outcry with no tincture of depreciation and with no yelp of the +plagiarism-hunting hound. It requires little skill to observe the +similarity to Dickens, as was proved by the fact that everyone noticed +it. In general, the shout was one of glad recognition; it was the +welcome given to the sound of a voice that had been still. It was not an +imitation: it was a reincarnation. The spirit of Dickens had really +entered into William De Morgan; many chapters in _Joseph Vance_ sounded +as if they had been dictated by the ghost of the author of +_Copperfield_. No book since 1870 had given so vivid an impression of +the best-beloved of all English novelists. This is meant to be high +praise. When Walt Whitman was being exalted for his unlikeness to the +great poets, one sensible critic quietly remarked, "It is easier to +differ from the great poets than to resemble them." To "remind us of +Dickens" would be as difficult for many modern novelists as for a +molehill to remind us of the Matterhorn. + +We may say, however, that _Joseph Vance_ and _It Never Can Happen Again_ +are more like Dickens in character and in detail than is +_Alice-for-Short_; and that the latter is closer to Dickens than is +_Somehow Good_. The Reverend Benaiah Capstick infallibly calls to mind +the spiritual adviser of Mrs. Weller; with the exception that the latter +was also spirituous. That kind of religion does not seem strongly to +appeal to either novelist; for Mr. Stiggins took to drink, and Capstick +to an insane asylum. There are many things in the conversation of +Christopher Vance that recall the humorous world-wisdom of the elder +Weller; and so we might continue, were it profitable. Another great +point of resemblance between Mr. De Morgan and Dickens is seen in the +method of narration chosen by each. Here William De Morgan is simply +following in the main track of English fiction, where the novelist +cannot refrain from _editing_ the text of the story. The course of +events is constantly interrupted by the author's gloss. Now when the +author's mind is not particularly interesting, the comment is an +unpleasant interruption; it is both impertinent and dull. But when the +writer is himself more profound, more clever, and more entertaining than +even his best characters, we cannot have too much of him. It is true +that Mr. De Morgan has told a good story in each of his novels; but it +is also true that the story is not the cause of their reputation. We +read these books with delight because the characters are so attractive, +and because the author's comments on them and on events are so +penetrating. If it is true, as some have intimated, that this method of +novel-writing proves that Mr. De Morgan, whatever he is, is not a +literary artist, then it is undeniable that Fielding, Dickens, Trollope, +and Thackeray are not artists; which is absurd, as Euclid would say. +Great books are invariably greater than our definitions of them. +Browning and Wagner composed great works of Art without paying much +attention to the rules of the game. + +As compared with French and Russian fiction, English novels from +Fielding to De Morgan have unquestionably sounded a note of insincerity. +One reason for this lies in the fact that to the Anglo-Saxon mind, +Morality has always seemed infinitely more important than Art. Matthew +Arnold spent his life fighting the Philistines; but when he said that +conduct was three-fourths of life, there was jubilation in the enemy's +camp. Now Zola declared that a novel could no more be called immoral in +its descriptions than a text-book on physiology; the novelist commits a +sin when he writes a badly constructed sentence. A disciple of this +school insisted that it was more important to have an accurate sense of +colour than to have a clear notion of right and wrong. Fortunately for +the true greatness of humanity, you never can get the average Englishman +or American to swallow such doctrine. But it is at the same time certain +that among English-speaking peoples Art has seldom been taken with +sufficient seriousness. We are handy with our fists; but you cannot +imagine us using them in behalf of literature, as we do for real or +personal property. So far as I know, an English audience in the theatre +has never been excited on a purely artistic question--a matter of +frequent occurrence on the Continent. We seem to believe that, after +all, Art has no place in the serious business of life; it is a +recreation, to amuse a mind overstrained by money-making or by +political affairs. We leave it to women, who are supposed to have more +leisure for trifles. + +For this reason, English novelists have generally felt compelled to +treat their public as a tired mother treats a restless child. Our +novelists have been in mortal terror lest the attention of their +audience should wander; and instead of taking their work and their +readers seriously, they continually hand us lollipops. Their attitude is +at once apologetic and insulting. They do not dare to believe that a +great work of Art--without personal comment--has in itself moral +greatness, and they do not dare trust the intelligence of spectators, +but must forsooth constantly break the illusion by soothing or +explanatory remarks. The fact that in our greatest writers this is often +presented from the standpoint of humour, does not prevent the loss of +illusion; and in writers who are not great, the reader feels nothing but +indignation. In the first chapter of the third book of _Amelia_, we find +the following advice:-- + + "He then proceeded as Miss Matthews desired; but, lest all our + readers should not be of her opinion, we will, according to our + usual custom, endeavour to accommodate ourselves to every taste, + and shall, therefore, place this scene in a chapter by itself, + which we desire all our readers who do not love, or who, perhaps, + do not know the pleasure of tenderness, to pass over; since they + may do this without any prejudice to the thread of the narrative." + +In the first chapter of _Shirley_, Charlotte Bronte prologises as +follows:-- + + "If you think ... that anything like a romance is preparing for + you, reader, you never were more mistaken.... Calm your + expectations; reduce them to a lowly standard. Something real, + cool, and solid lies before you;... It is not positively affirmed + that you shall not have a taste of the exciting, perhaps toward the + middle and close of the meal, but it is resolved that the first + dish set upon the table shall be one that a Catholic--ay, even an + Anglo-Catholic--might eat on Good Friday in Passion Week; it shall + be cold lentils and vinegar without oil; it shall be unleavened + bread with bitter herbs, and no roast lamb." + +William Black once wrote a novel called _Madcap Violet_, which he +intended for a tragedy, and in which, therefore, we have a right to +expect some artistic dignity. About midway in the volume we find the +following:-- + + "At this point, and in common courtesy to his readers, the writer + of these pages considers himself bound to give fair warning that + the following chapter deals solely and wholly with the shooting of + mergansers, curlews, herons, and such like fearful wild fowl; + therefore, those who regard such graceless idling with aversion, + and are anxious to get on with the story, should at once proceed to + chapter twenty-three." + +At the beginning of the second chapter of _Dr. Thorne_, one of the best +of Trollope's novels, we are petted in this manner:-- + + "A few words must still be said about Miss Mary before we rush into + our story; the crust will then have been broken, and the pie will + be open to the guests." + +At the three hundred and seventy-second page of the late Marion +Crawford's entertaining story, _The Prima Donna_, the course of the +narrative is thus interrupted:-- + + "Now at this stage of my story it would be unpardonable to keep my + readers in suspense, if I may suppose that any of them have a + little curiosity left. Therefore, I shall not narrate in detail + what happened Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, seeing that it was just + what might have been expected to happen at a week-end party during + the season when there is nothing in the world to do but to play + golf, tennis, or croquet, or to write or drive all day, and to work + hard at bridge all the evening; for that is what it has come to." + +Finally, in the first chapter of Mr. Winston Churchill's novel, +_Coniston_, the author pleads with his reader in this style:-- + + "The reader is warned that this first love-story will, in a few + chapters, come to an end; and not to a happy end--otherwise there + would be no book. Lest he should throw the book away when he + arrives at this page, it is only fair to tell him that there is + another and much longer love-story later on, if he will only + continue to read, in which, it is hoped, he may not be + disappointed." + +Imagine Turgenev or Flaubert scribbling anything similar to the +interpolations quoted above! When a great French novelist does +condescend to speak to his reader, it is in a tone, that so far from +belittling his own art, or sugaring the expectation of his listener, has +quite the contrary effect. On the second page of _Pere Goriot_, we find +the following solemn warning:-- + + "Ainsi ferez-vous, vous qui tenez ce livre d'une main blanche, vous + qui vous enfoncez dans un molleux fauteuil en vous disant: + 'Peut-etre ceci va-t-il m'amuser.' Apres avoir lu les secretes + infortunes du pere Goriot, vous dinerez avec appetit en mettant + votre insensibilite sur le compte de l'auteur, en le taxant + d'exageration, en l'accusant de poesie. Ah! sachez-le: ce drame + n'est ni une fiction ni un roman. _All is true_, il est si + veritable, que chacun peut en reconnaitre les elements chez soi, + dans son coeur peut-etre." + +The chief objection to these constant remarks to the reader, so common +in great English novels, is that they for the moment destroy the +illusion. Suppose an actress in the midst of Ophelia's mad scene should +suddenly pause and address the audience in her own accents in this wise: +"I observe that some ladies among the spectators are weeping, and that +some men are yawning. Allow me to say to those of you who dislike tragic +events on the stage, that I shall remain here only a few moments longer, +and shall not have much to say; and that if you will only be patient, +the grave-diggers will come on before long, and it is probable that +their conversation will amuse you." + +The two reasons given above, the fear that a novel unexplained by +author's comment will not justify itself morally, and that at all +hazards the gentle reader must be placated and entertained, undoubtedly +partly explain a long tradition in the course of English fiction. But +while we may protest against this sort of thing in general, it is well +to remember that we must take our men of genius as we find them, and +rejoice that they have seen fit to employ any channel of expression. +There are many different kinds of great novels, as there are of great +poems. The fact that Tennyson's poetry belongs to the first class does +not in the least prevent the totally different poetry of Browning from +being ranked equally high. _Joseph Vance_ is a very different kind of +novel from _The Return of the Native_, but both awaken our wonder and +delight. There are some books that inspire us by their art, and there +are others that inspire us by their ideas. Turgenev was surely a greater +artist than Tolstoi, but _Anna Karenina_ is a veritable piece of life. + +I do not say that William De Morgan is not a great artist, because, if I +should say it, I should not know exactly what I meant. But the immense +pleasure that his books give me is another kind of pleasure than I +receive from _The Scarlet Letter_. _Joseph Vance_ is not so much a +beautifully written or exquisitely constructed novel as it is an +encyclopaedia of life. We meet real people, we hear delightful +conversation, and the tremendously interesting personality of the author +is everywhere apparent. The opinion of many authors concerning +immortality is not worth attention; but I should very much like to know +Mr. De Morgan's views on this absorbing subject. And so I turn to the +fortieth chapter of _Joseph Vance_ with great expectations. The reader +is advised to skip this chapter, a sure indication of its importance. +For, like all humorists, Mr. De Morgan is a bit shamefaced when he talks +about the deepest things, the things that really interest him most. It +surely will not do to have Dr. Thorpe talk like the Reverend Mr. +Capstick, although they both eagerly discuss what we call the +supernatural. Capstick is an ass, but he has one characteristic that we +might, to a certain extent, imitate; he sees no reason to apologise for +conversing on great topics, or to break up such a conversation with an +embarrassed laugh. Most of us are horribly afraid of being taken for +sanctimonious persons, when there is really not the slightest danger. We +are always pleasantly surprised when we discover that our friends are at +heart just as serious as we are, and that they, too, regret the mask of +flippancy that our Anglo-Saxon false modesty compels us to wear. But, as +some one has said, you cannot expect your audience to take your views +seriously unless you express them with seriousness. Mr. De Morgan, like +Robert Browning, would doubtless deny that Dr. Thorpe spoke only the +author's thoughts; but just as you can hear Browning's voice all through +those "utterances of so many imaginary persons, not mine," so I feel +confident that amid all the light banter of this charming talk in the +fortieth chapter, the following remark of Dr. Thorpe expresses the +philosophy of William De Morgan, and at the same time the basal moral +principle underlying this entire novel:--"The highest good is the growth +of the Soul, and the greatest man is he who rejoices most in great +fulfilments of the will of God." + +For although Mr. De Morgan belongs, like Dickens, to the great +humorists, who, while keenly conscious of the enormous difference +between right and wrong, regard the world with a kindly smile for human +weakness and folly, he is mainly a psychologist. To all of his novels he +might appropriately have prefixed the words of the author of _Sordello_: +"My stress lay on the incidents in the development of a soul; little +else is worth study." All the characters that he loves show +_soul-development_; the few characters that are unlovely have souls that +do not advance. Joseph, Lossie, Janey, Alicia, Charles Heath, Rosalind, +Athelstan, have the inner man renewed day by day; one feels that at +physical death such personalities proceed naturally into a sphere of +eternal progress. On the other hand, Joey's soul stands still; so do the +souls of Violet, Lavinia Straker, Mrs. Vereker, Mrs. Eldridge, Judith, +and Mrs. Craik. Why should they live for ever? They would always be the +same. This is the real distinction in these novels between people that +are fundamentally good and those that are fundamentally bad; whether +their badness causes tragedy or merely constant irritation. It is an +original manner of dividing virtue from vice, but it is illuminating. + +The events in Mr. De Morgan's books are improbable, but the people are +probable. The same might be said of Shakespeare. It is highly improbable +that Christopher Vance could have risen to fortune through his +sign-board, or that Fenwick should have been electrocuted at the feet of +his wife's daughter. But Christopher Vance, Fenwick, and Sally behave +precisely as people would behave in such emergencies in real life. In +many ways I think Christopher Vance is the most convincing character in +all the novels; at any rate, I had rather hear him talk than any of the +others. There is no trace of meanness in him, and even when he is drunk +he is never offensive or disgusting. The day after he has returned +intoxicated from a meeting of the Board of Arbitrators, he seems rather +inquisitive as to his exact condition, and asks his son:-- + + "I wasn't singin' though, Nipper, was I?" I said certainly not! + "Not 'a Landlady of France she loved an Officer, 'tis said,' nor + 'stick 'em up again in the middle of a three-cent pie'?" + + "Neither of them--quite certain." My father seemed reassured. + "That's _something_, anyhow," said he. "The other Arbitrators was + singin' both. Likewise 'Rule Britannia.' Weak-headed cards, the two + on 'em!" + +The scene at Christopher Vance's death-bed, when Joseph finally +discloses the identity of the boy who threw the piece of glass into the +eye of the Sweep, touches the depths of true pathos. One feels the +infinite love of the father for the little son who defended him. He is +quite rightly prouder of that exploit than of all the Nipper's +subsequent learning. + +While the imaginary events in this novel bear no sort of relation to the +circumstances of the author's own life, I cannot help launching the mere +guess that the father of William De Morgan was, to a certain extent, a +combination of Christopher Vance and Dr. Thorpe. For Augustus De Morgan +was not only a distinguished mathematical scholar, he was well-known for +the keenness of his wit. He had the learning and refinement of Dr. +Thorpe, and the shrewd, irresistible humour of old Vance. At all events, +this striking combination in the novelist can be traced to no more +probable source. + +The influence of good women on men's lives is repeatedly shown; it is +indeed a leading principle in three of the books. One of the most +notable differences in novels that reflect a pessimistic +_Weltanschauung_ from those that indicate the contrary may be seen right +here. How completely the whole significance of the works of Guy de +Maupassant would change had he included here and there some women who +combined virtue with personal charm! "Were there no women, men would +live like gods," said a character in one of Dekker's plays; judged by +much modern fiction, one would feel like trying the experiment. But what +would become of Mr. De Morgan's novels, and of the attitude toward life +they so clearly reflect, if they contained no women? Young Joseph Vance +was fortunate indeed in having in his life the powerful influence of two +such characters as Lossie Thorpe and Janey Spencer. They were what a +compass is to a shipman, taking him straight on his course through the +blackest storms. It was for Lossie that he made the greatest sacrifice +in his whole existence; and nothing pays a higher rate of moral interest +than a big sacrifice. It was Janey who led him from the grossness of +earth into the spiritual world, something that Lossie, with all her +loveliness, could not do. Both women show that there is nothing +inherently dull in goodness; it may be accompanied with some _esprit_. +We are too apt to think that moral goodness is represented by such +persons as the Elder Brother in the story of the Prodigal Son, when the +parable indicates that the younger brother, with all his crimes, was +actually the more virtuous of the two. It took no small skill for Mr. De +Morgan to create such an irresistibly good woman as Lossie, make his +hero in love with her from boyhood, cause her to marry some one else, +and then to unite the heart-broken hero with another girl; and through +these tremendous upheavals to make all things work together for good, +and to the reader's complete satisfaction. This could not possibly have +been accomplished had not the author been able to fashion a woman, who, +while totally unlike Lossie in every physical and mental aspect, was +spiritually even more attractive. I am not sure which of the two girls +has the bigger place in their maker's heart; I suspect it is Lossie; but +to me Janey is not only a better woman, I really have a stronger +affection for her. + +In _Alice-for-Short_, the hero is again blessed with two guardian +angels, his sister and his second wife. Mr. De Morgan is extremely +generous to his favourite men, in permitting either their second choice +or their second experiment in matrimony to prove such an amazing +success. Comparatively few novelists dare to handle the problem of happy +second marriages; the subject for some reason does not lend itself +readily to romance. Josh Billings said he knew of absolutely nothing +that would cure a man of laziness; but that a second wife would +sometimes help. Although he said this in the spirit of farce, it is +exactly what happens in Mr. De Morgan's books. Janey is not technically +a second wife, but she is spiritually; and she rescues Joseph from +despair, restores his ambition and capacity to work, and after her death +is like a guiding star. Alice is a second wife, both in her husband's +heart and in the law; and her influence on Charles Heath provides +exactly the stimulus needed to save him from himself. Fenwick marries +for the second time, and although his wife is in one sense the same +person, in another she is not; she is quite different in everything +except constancy from the wretched girl he left sobbing on the verandah +in India. And what would have become of Fenwick without the mature +Rosalind? Salvation, in Mr. De Morgan's novels, often assumes a feminine +shape. They are not books of Friendship, like _The Cloister and the +Hearth_, _Trilby_, and _Es War_; with all their wonderful intelligence +and play of intellect, they would seem almost barren without women. And +he is far more successful in depicting love after marriage than before. +One of the most charming characteristics of these stories is the +frequent representation of the highest happiness known on earth--not +found in the passion of early youth, but in a union of two hearts +cemented by joy and sorrow in the experience of years. No novelist has +ever given us better pictures of a good English home; more attractive +glimpses into the reserveless intimacy of the affairs of the hearth. The +conversations between Christopher Vance and his wife, between Sir Rupert +and Lady Johnson, between Fenwick and Rosalind, are decidedly superior +to the "love-making" scenes. Indeed, the description of the walk during +which young Dr. Vereker definitely wins Sally, is disappointing. It is +perhaps the only important episode in Mr. De Morgan's novels that shows +more effort than inspiration. + +The style in these books, despite constant quotation, is not at all a +literary style. Joseph Vance is called "an ill-written autobiography," +because it lacks entirely the conventional manner. Many works of fiction +are composed in what might be called the terminology of the art; just as +works in science and in sport are compelled to repeat constantly the +same verbal forms. The astonishing freshness and charm of Mr. De +Morgan's method consist partly in his abandonment of literary precedent, +and adhering only to actual observation. It is as though an actor on the +stage should suddenly drop his mannerism of accent and gesture, and +behave as he would were he actually, instead of histrionically, happy or +wretched. Despite the likeness to Dickens in characters and atmosphere, +_Joseph Vance_ sounds not only as though its author had never written a +novel previously, but as though he had never read one. It has the +strangeness of reality. There is no lack of action in these huge +narratives: the men and women pass through the most thrilling incidents, +and suffer the greatest extremes of passion, pain, and joy that the +human mind can endure. We have three cases of drowning, one tremendous +fire; and in _Somehow Good_--which, viewed merely as a story, is the +best of them--a highly eventful plot; and, spiritually, the characters +give us an idea of how much agony the heart can endure without quite +breaking. But though the bare plot seems almost like melodrama, the +style is never on stilts. In the most awful crises, the language has the +absolute simplicity of actual circumstance. When Rosalind recognises her +husband in the cab, we wonder why she takes it so coolly. Some sixty +pages farther along, we come upon this paragraph:-- + + "Nevertheless, these were not so absolute that her demeanour + escaped comment from the cabby, the only witness of her first sight + of the 'electrocuted' man. He spoke of her afterwards as that + squealing party down that sanguinary little turning off Shepherd's + Bush Road he took that sanguinary galvanic shock to." + +Our author is fond of presenting events of the most momentous +consequence through the lips of humble and indifferent observers. It is +only the cabman's chance testimony which shows us that even Rosalind's +superb self-control had the limit determined by real womanhood; and in +_Joseph Vance_, the great climax of emotion, when Lossie visits her +maligned old lover, is given with unconscious force through the faulty +vernacular of the "slut" of a servant-maid, who is utterly unaware of +the angels that ministered over that scene; and then by the broken +English of the German chess-player, equally blind to the divine +presence. Compare these two crude testimonies, which make the ludicrous +blunders made by the Hostess in that marvellous account of the death of +Falstaff, and you have a veritable harmony of the Gospels. Some +novelists use an extraordinary style to describe ordinary events; Mr. De +Morgan uses an ordinary style to describe extraordinary events. + +Even in his latest book, _It Never Can Happen Again_,[2] the least +cheerful of all his productions, the title is intended to be as +comforting as Charles Reade's caption, _It Is Never Too Late to Mend_. +In this story, Mr. De Morgan descends into hell. Delirium tremens has +never been pictured with more frightful horror than in the awful night +when the mad wretch is bent on murder. No scene in any naturalistic +novel surpasses this in vivid detail. Indeed, all of Mr. De Morgan's +books might well be circulated as anti-alcohol tracts; the real villain +in his tragedies is Drink. Even though drunkenness in a certain aspect +supplies comedy in _Joseph Vance_, drink is, after all, the ruin of old +Christopher, and we are left with no shade of doubt that this is so. Mr. +De Morgan's unquestionable optimism does not blink the dreadful aspects +of life, any more than did Browning's. The scene in the hospital, where +the fingers without finger-nails clasp the mighty hand in the rubber +glove, is as loathsomely horrible as anything to be found in the annals +of disease. And the career of Blind Jim, entirely ignorant of his divine +origin and destiny, is a series of appalling calamities. He has lost his +sight in a terrible accident; he is run over by a waggon, and loses his +leg; he is run over by an automobile, and loses his life. He has also +lost, though he does not know it, what is far dearer to him than eyes, +or legs, or life,--his little daughter. And yet we do not need the +spirit voice of the dead child to assure us that all is well. Indeed, +the tragic history of Jim and Lizarann is not nearly so depressing as +the humdrum narrative of the melancholy quarrel between Mr. and Mrs. +Challis. In previous novels, the author has been pleased to show us +domestic happiness; here we have the dreary round of perpetual discord. +Of course no one can complain of Mr. De Morgan for his choice in this +matter; it is certainly true that not all marriages are happy, even +though the majority of them (as I believe) are. The difficulty is that +the triangle in this book--husband, wife, and beautiful young lady--has +no corner of real interest. It is not entirely the fault of either Mr. +or Mrs. Challis that they separate; there is much to be said on both +sides. What we object to is the fact that it is impossible to sympathise +with either of them; this is not because each is guilty, but because +neither is interesting. We do not much care what becomes of them. And as +for Judith, the technical virgin who causes all the trouble, she is a +very dull person. We do not need this book to learn that female beauty +without brains fascinates the ordinary man. The best scenes are those +where Blind Jim and Lizarann appear; they are a couple fully worthy of +Dickens at his best. Unfortunately they do not appear often enough to +suit us, and they both die. We could more easily have spared Mr. and +Mrs. Challis, the latter's abominable tea-gossip friend, and that old +hypocritical tiger-cat, Mrs. Challis's mother. Why does Mr. De Morgan +make elderly women so disgustingly unattractive? Does his sympathy with +life desert him here? The entire Challis household, including the +satellites of relationship and propinquity, are hardly worth the +author's skill or the reader's attention. One would suppose that a +brilliant novelist, like Challis, pulled from the domestic orbit by a +comet like Judith, would be for a time in an interesting, if not an +edifying, position; but he is not. Perhaps Mr. De Morgan wishes to show +with the impartiality of a true chronicler of life that a married man, +drawn away by his own lust, and enticed, can be just as dull in sin as +in virtue. Yet the long dreary family storm ends in sunshine; the +discordant pair are redeemed by Love,--the real motive power of this +story,--and one feels that it can never happen again. In spite of Mr. De +Morgan's continual onslaught on creeds, Athelstan Taylor, who believes +the whole Apostles' Creed, compares very favourably with Challis, who +believes only the first seven and the last four words of it, apparently +the portion accepted by Mr. De Morgan: and by their fruits ye shall know +them. It is certainly a proof of the fair-mindedness of our novelist, +that he has created orthodox believers like Lossie's husband and +Athelstan Taylor, big wholesome fellows, both of them; and has +deliberately made both so irresistibly attractive. The professional +parson is often ridiculed in modern novels; it is worth noting that in +this story the only important character in the whole work who combines +intelligence with virtue is the Reverend Athelstan Taylor. + +[2] Through the kindness of Messrs. Henry Holt and Co., I have had the +privilege of reading this novel in proof sheets. + +Seldom have any books shown so intimate a knowledge of the kingdom of +this world and at the same time reflected with such radiance the kingdom +of heaven. It is noteworthy and encouraging that a man who portrays with +such humorous exactitude the things that are seen and temporal, should +exhibit so firm a faith in the things that are unseen and eternal. In +_Joseph Vance_ we have the growth of the soul from an environment of +poverty and crime to the loftiest heights of nobility and self-denial; +and the theme in the Waldstein Sonata triumphantly repeats the +confidence of Dr. Thorpe, who regards death not as a barrier, but as a +gateway. In _Alice-for-Short_, the mystery of the spirit-world +completely envelops the humdrum inconsistencies that form the daily +round, the trivial task; this is seen perhaps not so much in the +"ghosts," for they speak of the past; but the figure of old +Verrinder--whose heart revolves about the Asylum like the planet around +the sun--and the waking of old Jane from her long sleep, seem to +symbolise the impotence of Time to quench the divine spark of Love. This +story is called a "dichronism"; but it might have been called a +_dichroism_, for from one viewpoint it reflects only the clouded colour +of earth, and from another a celestial glory. In _Somehow Good_ the +ugliest tragedy takes its place in the unapparent order of life. It is +not that good finally reigns in spite of evil; the final truth is that +in some manner good is the very goal of ill. The agony of separation has +tested the pure metal of character; and the fusion of two lives is made +permanent in the frightful heat of awful pain. The fruit of a repulsive +sin may be Beauty, like a flower springing from a dung-hill. "What +became of the baby?... _The_ baby--_his_ baby--_his_ horrible baby!" +"Gerry darling! Gerry _dearest_! do think...." + + + + +II + +THOMAS HARDY + + +The father of Thomas Hardy wished his son to enter the church, and this +object was the remote goal of his early education. At just what period +in the boy's mental development Christianity took on the form of a +meaningless fable, we shall perhaps never know; but after a time he +ceased to have even the faith of a grain of mustard seed. This absence +of religious belief has proved no obstacle to many another candidate for +the Christian ministry, as every habitual church-goer knows; or as any +son of Belial may discover for himself by merely reading the prospectus +of summer schools of theology. There has, however, always been a certain +cold, mathematical precision in Mr. Hardy's way of thought that would +have made him as uncomfortable in the pulpit as he would have been in an +editor's chair, writing for salary persuasive articles containing the +exact opposite of his individual convictions. But, although the beauty +of holiness failed to impress his mind, the beauty of the sanctuary was +sufficiently obvious to his sense of Art. He became an ecclesiastical +architect, and for some years his delight was in the courts of the Lord. +Instead of composing sermons in ink, he made sermons in stones, +restoring to many a decaying edifice the outlines that the original +builder had seen in his vision centuries ago. For no one has ever +regarded ancient churches with more sympathy and reverence than Mr. +Hardy. No man to-day has less respect for God and more devotion to His +house. + +Mr. Hardy's professional career as an architect extended over a period +of about thirteen years, from the day when the seventeen-year-old boy +became articled, to about 1870, when he forsook the pencil for the pen. +His strict training as an architect has been of enormous service to him +in the construction of his novels, for skill in constructive drawing has +repeatedly proved its value in literature. Rossetti achieved positive +greatness as an artist and as a poet. Stevenson's studies in engineering +were not lost time, and Mr. De Morgan affords another good illustration +of the same fact. Thackeray was unconsciously learning the art of the +novelist while he was making caricatures, and the lesser Thackeray of a +later day--George du Maurier--found the transition from one art to the +other a natural progression. Hopkinson Smith and Frederic Remington, on +a lower but dignified plane, bear witness to the same truth. Indeed, +when one studies carefully the beginnings of the work of imaginative +writers, one is surprised at the great number who have handled an +artist's or a draughtsman's pencil. A prominent and successful +playwright of to-day has said that if he were not writing plays, he +should not dream of writing books; he would be building bridges. + +Mr. Hardy's work as an ecclesiastical architect laid the real +foundations of his success as a novelist; for it gave him an intimate +familiarity with the old monuments and rural life of Wessex, and at the +same time that eye for precision of form that is so noticeable in all +his books. He has really never ceased to be an architect. Architecture +has contributed largely to the matter and to the style of his stories. +Two architects appear in his first novel. In _A Pair of Blue Eyes_ +Stephen Smith is a professional architect, and in coming to restore the +old Western Church he was simply repeating the experience of his +creator. No one of Mr. Hardy's novels contains more of the facts of his +own life than _A Laodicean_, which was composed on what the author then +believed to be his death-bed; it was mainly dictated, which I think +partly accounts for its difference in style from the other tales. The +hero, Somerset, is an architect whose first meeting with his future +wife occurs through his professional curiosity concerning the castle; +and a considerable portion of the early chapters is taken up with +architectural detail, and of his enforced rivalry with a competitor in +the scheme for restoration. Not only does Mr. Hardy's scientific +profession speak through the mouths of his characters, but old and +beautiful buildings adorn his pages as they do the landscape he loves. +In _Two on a Tower_ the ancient structure appears here and there in the +story as naturally and incidentally as it would to a pedestrian in the +neighbourhood; in _A Pair of Blue Eyes_ the church tower plays an +important part in a thrilling episode, and its fall emphasises a +Scripture text in a diabolical manner. The old church at Weatherbury is +so closely associated with the life history of the men and women in _Far +from the Madding Crowd_ that as one stands in front of it to-day the +people seem to gather again about its portal.... + +But while Mr. Hardy has drawn freely on his knowledge of architecture in +furnishing animate and inanimate material for his novels, the great +results of his youthful training are seen in a more subtle and +profounder influence. The intellectual delight that we receive in the +perusal of his books--a delight that sometimes makes us impatient with +the work of feebler authors--comes largely from the architectonics of +his literary structures. One never loses sight of Hardy the architect. +In purely constructive skill he has surpassed all his contemporaries. +His novels--with the exception of _Desperate Remedies_ and _Jude the +Obscure_--are as complete and as beautiful to contemplate as a +sculptor's masterpiece. They are finished and noble works of art, and +give the same kind of pleasure to the mind as any superbly perfect +outline. Mr. Hardy himself firmly believes that the novel should first +of all be a story: that it should not be a thesis, nor a collection of +reminiscences or _obiter dicta_. He insists that a novel should be as +much of a whole as a living organism, where all the parts--plot, +dialogue, character, and scenery--should be fitly framed together, +giving the single impression of a completely harmonious building. One +simply cannot imagine him writing in the manner of a German novelist, +with absolutely no sense of proportion; nor like the mighty Tolstoi, who +steadily sacrifices Art on the altar of Reality; nor like the great +English school represented by Thackeray, Dickens, Trollope, and De +Morgan, whose charm consists in their intimacy with the reader; they +will interrupt the narrative constantly to talk it over with the merest +bystander, thus gaining his affection while destroying the illusion. Mr. +Hardy's work shows a sad sincerity, the noble austerity of the true +artist, who feels the dignity of his art and is quite willing to let it +speak for itself. + +His earliest novel, _Desperate Remedies_, is more like an architect's +first crude sketch than a complete and detailed drawing. Strength, +originality, and a thoroughly intelligent design are perfectly clear; +one feels the impelling mind behind the product. But it resembles the +_plan_ of a good novel rather than a novel itself. The lines are hard; +there is a curious rigidity about the movement of the plot which +proceeds in jerks, like a machine that requires frequent winding up. The +manuscript was submitted to a publishing firm, who, it is interesting to +remember, handed it over to their professional reader, George Meredith. +Mr. Meredith told the young author that his work was promising; and he +said it in such a way that the two men became life-long friends, there +being no more jealousy between them than existed between Tennyson and +Browning. Years later Mr. Meredith said that he regarded Mr. Hardy as +the real leader of contemporary English novelists; and the younger man +always maintained toward his literary adviser an attitude of sincere +reverence, of which his poem on the octogenarian's death was a beautiful +expression. There is something fine in the honest friendship and mutual +admiration of two giants, who cordially recognise each other above the +heads of the crowd, and who are themselves placidly unmoved by the +fierce jealousy of their partisans. In this instance, despite a total +unlikeness in literary style, there was genuine intellectual kinship. +Mr. Meredith and Mr. Hardy were both Pagans and regarded the world and +men and women from the Pagan standpoint, though the deduction in one +case was optimism and in the other pessimism. Given the premises, the +younger writer's conclusions seem more logical; and the processes of his +mind were always more orderly than those of his brilliant and irregular +senior. There is little doubt (I think) as to which of the two should +rank higher in the history of English fiction, where fineness of Art +surely counts for something. Mr. Hardy is a great novelist; whereas to +adapt a phrase that Arnold applied to Emerson, I should say that Mr. +Meredith was not a great novelist; he was a great man who wrote novels. + +Immediately after the publication of _Desperate Remedies_, which seemed +to teach him, as _Endymion_ taught Keats, the highest mysteries of his +art, Mr. Hardy entered upon a period of brilliant and splendid +production. In three successive years, 1872, 1873, and 1874, he produced +three masterpieces--_Under the Greenwood Tree_, _A Pair of Blue Eyes_, +and _Far from the Madding Crowd_; followed four years later by what is, +perhaps, his greatest contribution to literature, _The Return of the +Native_. Even in literary careers that last a long time, there seem to +be golden days when the inspiration is unbalked by obstacles. It is +interesting to contemplate the lengthy row of Scott's novels, and then +to remember that _The Heart of Midlothian_, _The Bride of Lammermoor_ +and _Ivanhoe_ were published in three successive years; to recall that +the same brief span covered in George Eliot's work the production of +_Scenes of Clerical Life_, _Adam Bede_, and _The Mill on the Floss_; and +one has only to compare what Mr. Kipling accomplished in 1888, 1889, and +1890 with any other triennial, to discover when he had what the +Methodists call "liberty." Mr. Hardy's career as a writer has covered +about forty years; omitting his collections of short tales, he has +written fourteen novels; from 1870 to 1880, inclusive, seven appeared; +from 1881 to 1891, five; from 1892 to 1902, two; since 1897 he has +published no novels at all. With that singular and unfortunate +perversity which makes authors proudest of their lamest offspring, Mr. +Hardy has apparently abandoned the novel for poetry and the poetic +drama. I suspect that praise of his verse is sweeter to him than praise +of his fiction; but, although his poems are interesting for their ideas, +and although we all like the huge _Dynasts_ better than we did when we +first saw it, it is a great pity from the economic point of view that +the one man who can write novels better than anybody else in the same +language should deliberately choose to write something else in which he +is at his very best only second rate. The world suffers the same kind of +economic loss (less only in degree) that it suffered when Milton spent +twenty years of his life in writing prose; and when Tolstoi forsook +novels for theology. + +It is probable that one reason why Mr. Hardy quit novel-writing was the +hostile reception that greeted _Jude the Obscure_. Every great author, +except Tennyson, has been able to endure adverse criticism, whether he +hits back, like Pope and Byron, or whether he proceeds on his way in +silence. But no one has ever enjoyed or ever will enjoy +misrepresentation; and there is no doubt that the writer of _Jude_ felt +that he had been cruelly misunderstood. It is, I think, the worst novel +he has ever written, both from the moral and from the artistic point of +view; but the novelist was just as sincere in his intention as when he +wrote the earlier books. The difficulty is that something of the same +change had taken place in his work that is so noticeable in that of +Bjoernson; he had ceased to be a pure artist and had become a +propagandist. The fault that marred the splendid novel _Tess of the +D'Urbervilles_ ruined _Jude the Obscure_. When Mr. Hardy wrote on the +title-page of _Tess_ the words, "A Pure Woman Faithfully Presented," he +issued defiantly the name of a thesis which the story (great, in spite +of this) was intended to defend. To a certain extent, his interest in +the argument blinded his artistic sense; otherwise he would never have +committed the error of hanging his heroine. The mere hanging of a +heroine may not be in itself an artistic blunder, for Shakespeare hanged +Cordelia. But Mr. Hardy executed Tess because he was bound to see his +thesis through. In the prefaces to subsequent editions the author turned +on his critics, calling them "sworn discouragers of effort," a phrase +that no doubt some of them deserved; and then, like many another man who +believes in himself, he punished both critics and the public in the +Rehoboam method by issuing _Jude the Obscure_. Instead of being a +masterpiece of despair, like _The Return of the Native_, this book is a +shriek of rage. Pessimism, which had been a noble ground quality of his +earlier writings, is in _Jude_ merely hysterical and wholly +unconvincing. The author takes obvious pains to make things come out +wrong; as in melodramas and childish romances, the law of causation is +suspended in the interest of the hero's welfare. Animalism, which had +partially disfigured _Tess_, became gross and revolting in _Jude_; and +the representation of marriage and the relations between men and women, +instead of being a picture of life, resembled a caricature. It is a +matter of sincere regret that Mr. Hardy has stopped novel-writing, but +we want no more _Judes_. Didactic pessimism is not good for the novel. + +_The Well-Beloved_, published in 1897, but really a revision of an +earlier tale, is in a way a triumph of Art. The plot is simply absurd, +almost as whimsical as anything in _Alice in Wonderland_. A man proposes +to a young girl and is rejected; when her daughter is grown, he proposes +to the representative of the second generation, and with the same ill +fortune. When _her_ daughter reaches maturity, he tries the third woman +in line and without success. His perseverance was equalled only by his +bad luck, as so often happens in Mr. Hardy's stories. And yet, with a +plot that would wreck any other novelist, the author constructed a +powerful and beautifully written novel. It is as though the architect +had taken a wretched plan and yet somehow contrived to erect on its +false lines a handsome building. The book has naturally added nothing to +his reputation, but as a _tour de force_ it is hard to surpass. + +It is pleasant to remember that a man's opinion of his own work has +nothing to do with its final success and that his best creations cannot +be injured by his worst. Tolstoi may be ashamed of having written _Anna +Karenina_, and may insist that his sociological tracts are superior +productions, but we know better; and rejoice in his powerlessness to +efface his own masterpieces. We may honestly think that we should be +ashamed to put our own names to such stuff as _Little Dorrit_, but that +does not prevent us from admiring the splendid genius that produced +_David Copperfield_ and _Great Expectations_. Mr. Hardy may believe that +_Jude the Obscure_ represents his zenith as a novelist, and that his +poems are still greater literature; but one reading of _Jude_ suffices, +while we never tire of rereading _Far from the Madding Crowd_ and _The +Return of the Native_. Probably no publisher's announcement in the world +to-day would cause more pleasure to English-speaking people than the +announcement that Thomas Hardy was at work on a Wessex novel with +characters of the familiar kind. + +For _The Dynasts_, which covers the map of Europe, transcends the sky, +and deals with world-conquerors, is not nearly so great a world-drama as +_A Pair of Blue Eyes_, that is circumscribed in a small corner of a +small island, and treats exclusively of a little group of commonplace +persons. Literature deals with a constant--human nature, which is the +same in Wessex as in Vienna. As the late Mr. Clyde Fitch used to say, it +is not the great writers that have great things happen to them; the +great things happen to the ordinary people they portray. Mr. Hardy +selected a few of the southwestern counties of England as the stage for +his prose dramas; to this locality he for the first time, in _Far from +the Madding Crowd_, gave the name Wessex, a name now wholly fictitious, +but which his creative imagination has made so real that it is +constantly and seriously spoken of as though it were English geography. +In these smiling valleys and quiet rural scenes, "while the earth keeps +up her terrible composure," the farmers and milkmaids hold us spellbound +as they struggle in awful passion. The author of the drama stands aloof, +making no effort to guide his characters from temptation, folly, and +disaster, and offering no explanation to the spectators, who are +thrilled with pity and fear. But one feels that he loves and hates his +children as we do, and that he correctly gauges their moral value. The +very narrowness of the scene increases the intensity of the play. The +rustic cackle of his bourg drowns the murmur of the world. + +Mr. Hardy's knowledge of and sympathy with nature is of course obvious +to all readers, but it is none the less impressive as we once more open +books that we have read many times. There are incidentally few novelists +who repay one so richly for repeated perusals. He seems as inexhaustible +as nature herself, and he grows stale no faster than the repetition of +the seasons. It is perhaps rather curious that a man who finds nature so +absolutely inexorable and indifferent to human suffering should love her +so well. But every man must love something greater than himself, and as +Mr. Hardy had no God, he has drawn close to the world of trees, plains, +and rivers. His intimacy with nature is almost uncanny. Nature is not +merely a background in his stories, it is often an active agent. There +are striking characters in _The Return of the Native_, but the greatest +character in the book is Egdon Heath. The opening chapter, which gives +the famous picture of the Heath, is like an overture to a great +music-drama. The _Heath-motif_ is repeated again and again in the story. +It has a personality of its own, and affects the fortunes and the hearts +of all human beings who dwell in its proximity. If one stands to-day on +the edge of this Heath at the twilight hour, just at the moment when +Darkness is conquering Light--the moment chosen by Mr. Hardy for the +first chapter--one realises its significance and its possibilities. In +_Tess of the D'Urbervilles_ the intercourse between man and nature is +set forth with amazing power. The different seasons act as chorus to the +human tragedy. In _The Woodlanders_ the trees seem like separate +individualities. To me a tree has become a different thing since I first +read this particular novel. + +Even before he took up the study of architecture, Mr. Hardy's +unconscious training as a novelist began. When he was a small boy, the +Dorchester girls found him useful in a way that recalls the services of +that reliable child, Samuel Richardson. These village maids, in their +various love-affairs, which necessitated a large amount of private +correspondence, employed young Hardy as amanuensis. He did not, like his +great predecessor, compose their epistles; but he held the pen, and +faithfully recorded the inspiration of Love, as it flowed warm from the +lips of passionate youth. In this manner, the almost sexless boy was +enabled to look clear-eyed into the very heart of palpitating young +womanhood, and to express accurately its most gentle and most stormy +emotions; just as the white voice of a choir-child repeats with +precision the thrilling notes of religious passion. These early +experiences were undoubtedly of the highest value in later years; +indeed, as the boy grew a little older, it is probable that the +impression deepened. Mr. Hardy is fond of depicting the vague, +half-conscious longing of a boy to be near a beautiful woman; everyone +will remember the contract between Eustacia and her youthful admirer, by +which he was to hold her hand for a stipulated number of minutes. Mr. +Hardy's women are full of tenderness and full of caprice; and whatever +feminine readers may think of them, they are usually irresistible to the +masculine mind. It has been said, indeed, that he is primarily a man's +novelist, as Mrs. Ward is perhaps a woman's; he does not represent his +women as marvels of intellectual splendour, or in queenly domination +over the society in which they move. They are more apt to be the +victims of their own affectionate hearts. One female reader, exasperated +at this succession of portraits, wrote on the margin of one of Mr. +Hardy's novels that she took from a circulating library, "Oh, how I +_hate_ Thomas Hardy!" This is an interesting gloss, even if we do not +add meanly that it bears witness to the truth of the picture. Elfride, +Bathsheba, Eustacia, Lady Constantine, Marty South, and Tess are of +varied social rank and wealth; but they are all alike in humble +prostration before the man they love. Mr. Hardy takes particular +pleasure in representing them as swayed by sudden and constantly +changing caprices; one has only to recall the charming Bathsheba +Everdene, and her various attitudes toward the three men who admire +her--Troy, Boldwood, and Gabriel Oak. Mr. Hardy's heroines change their +minds oftener than they change their clothes; but in whatever material +or mental presentment, they never lack attraction. And they all resemble +their maker in one respect; at heart every one of them is a Pagan. They +vary greatly in constancy and in general strength of character; but it +is human passion, and not religion, that is the mainspring of their +lives. He has never drawn a truly spiritual woman, like Browning's +Pompilia. + +His best men, from the moral point of view, are closest to the soil. +Gabriel Oak, in _Far from the Madding Crowd_, and Venn, in _The Return +of the Native_, are, on the whole, his noblest characters. Oak is a +shepherd and Venn is a reddleman; their sincerity, charity, and fine +sense of honour have never been injured by what is called polite +society. And Mr. Hardy, the stingiest author toward his characters, has +not entirely withheld reward from these two. Henry Knight and Angel +Clare, who have whatever advantages civilisation is supposed to give, +are certainly not villains; they are men of the loftiest ideals; but if +each had been a deliberate black-hearted villain, he could not have +treated the innocent woman who loved him with more ugly cruelty. +Compared with Oak and Venn, this precious pair of prigs are seen to have +only the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees; a righteousness +that is of little help in the cruel emergencies of life. Along with them +must stand Clym Yeobright, another slave to moral theory, who quite +naturally ends his days as an itinerant preacher. The real villains in +Mr. Hardy's novels, Sergeant Troy, young Dare, and Alec D'Urberville, +seem the least natural and the most machine-made of all his characters. + +Mr. Hardy's pessimism is a picturesque and splendid contribution to +modern fiction. We should be as grateful for it in this field as we are +to Schopenhauer in the domain of metaphysics. I am no pessimist myself, +but I had rather read Schopenhauer than all the rest of the +philosophers put together, Plato alone excepted. The pessimism of Mr. +Hardy resembles that of Schopenhauer in being absolutely thorough and +absolutely candid; it makes the world as darkly superb and as terribly +interesting as a Greek drama. It is wholly worth while to get this point +of view; and if in practical life one does not really believe in it, it +is capable of yielding much pleasure. After finishing one of Mr. Hardy's +novels, one has all the delight of waking from an impressive but +horrible dream, and feeling through the dissolving vision the real +friendliness of the good old earth. It is like coming home from an +adequate performance of _King Lear_, which we would not have missed for +anything. There are so many make-believe pessimists, so many whose +pessimism is a sham and a pose, which will not stand for a moment in a +real crisis, that we cannot withhold admiration for such pessimism as +Mr. Hardy's, which is fundamental and sincere. To him the Christian +religion and what we call the grace of God have not the slightest shade +of meaning; he is as absolute a Pagan as though he had written four +thousand years before Christ. This is something almost refreshing, +because it is so entirely different from the hypocrisy and cant, the +pretence of pessimism, so familiar to us in the works of modern writers; +and so inconsistent with their daily life. Mr. Hardy's pessimism is the +one deep-seated conviction of his whole intellectual process. + +I once saw a print of a cartoon drawn by a contemporary Dresden artist, +Herr Sascha Schneider. It was called "The Helplessness of Man against +Destiny." We see a quite naked man, standing with his back to us; his +head is bowed in hopeless resignation; heavy manacles are about his +wrists, to which chains are attached, that lead to some fastening in the +ground. Directly before him, with hideous hands, that now almost +entirely surround the little circle where he stands in dejection, crawls +flatly toward him a prodigious, shapeless monster, with his horrid +narrow eyes fixed on his defenceless human prey. And the man is so +conscious of his tether, that even in the very presence of the +unspeakably awful object, _the chains hang loose_! He may have tried +them once, but he has since given up. The monster is Destiny; and the +real meaning of the picture is seen in the eyes, nose, and mouth of the +loathsome beast. There is not only no sympathy and no intelligence +there; there is an expression far more terrible than the evident lust to +devour; there is plainly the _sense of humour_ shown on this hideous +face. The contrast between the limitless strength of the monster and the +utter weakness of the man, flavours the stupidity of Destiny with the +zest of humour. + +Now this is a correct picture of life as Mr. Hardy sees it. His God is a +kind of insane child, who cackles foolishly as he destroys the most +precious objects. Some years ago I met a man entirely blind. He said +that early in life he had lost the sight of one eye by an accident; and +that years later, as he held a little child on his lap, the infant, in +rare good humour, playfully poked the point of a pair of scissors into +the other, thus destroying his sight for ever. So long an interval had +elapsed since this second and final catastrophe, that the man spoke of +it without the slightest excitement or resentment. The child with the +scissors might well represent Hardy's conception of God. Destiny is +whimsical, rather than definitely malicious; for Destiny has not +sufficient intelligence even to be systematically bad. We smile at +Caliban's natural theology, as he composes his treatise on Setebos; but +his God is the same who disposes of man's proposals in the stories of +our novelist. + + "In which feat, if his leg snapped, brittle clay, + And he lay stupid-like,--why, I should laugh; + And if he, spying me, should fall to weep, + Beseech me to be good, repair his wrong, + Bid his poor leg smart less or grow again,-- + Well, as the chance were, this might take or else + Not take my fancy.... + 'Thinketh, such shows nor right nor wrong in Him, + Nor kind, nor cruel: He is strong and Lord." + +Mr. Hardy believes that, morally, men and women are immensely superior +to God; for all the good qualities that we attribute to Him in prayer +are human, not divine. He in his loneliness is totally devoid of the +sense of right and wrong, and knows neither justice nor mercy. His poem +_New Year's Eve_[3] clearly expresses his theology. + +[3] See Appendix. + +Mr. Hardy's pessimism is not in the least personal, nor has it risen +from any sorrow or disappointment in his own life. It is both +philosophic and temperamental. He cannot see nature in any other way. To +venture a guess, I think his pessimism is mainly caused by his deep, +manly tenderness for all forms of human and animal life and by an almost +abnormal sympathy. His intense love for bird and beast is well known; +many a stray cat and hurt dog have found in him a protector and a +refuge. He firmly believes that the sport of shooting is wicked, and he +has repeatedly joined in practical measures to waken the public +conscience on this subject. As a spectator of human history, he sees +life as a vast tragedy, with men and women emerging from nothingness, +suffering acute physical and mental sorrow, and then passing into +nothingness again. To his sympathetic mind, the creed of optimism is a +ribald insult to the pain of humanity and devout piety merely absurd. To +hear these suffering men and women utter prayers of devotion and sing +hymns of adoration to the Power whence comes all their anguish is to him +a veritable abdication of reason and common sense. God simply does not +deserve it, and he for one will have the courage to say so. He will not +stand by and see humanity submit so tamely to so heartless a tyrant. +For, although Mr. Hardy is a pessimist, he has not the least tincture of +cynicism. If one analyses his novels carefully, one will see that he +seldom shows scorn for his characters; his contempt is almost +exclusively devoted to God. Sometimes the evil fate that his characters +suffer is caused by the very composition of their mind, as is seen in _A +Pair of Blue Eyes_; again it is no positive human agency, but rather an +AEschylean conception of hidden forces, as in _The Return of the Native_; +but in neither case is humanity to blame. + +This pessimism has one curious effect that adds greatly to the reader's +interest when he takes up an hitherto unread novel by our author. The +majority of works of fiction end happily; indeed, many are so badly +written that any ending cannot be considered unfortunate. But with most +novelists we have a sense of security. We know that, no matter what +difficulties the hero and heroine may encounter, the unseen hand of +their maker will guide them eventually to paths of pleasantness and +peace. Mr. Hardy inspires no such confidence. In reading Trollope, one +smiles at a cloud of danger, knowing it will soon pass over; but after +reading _A Pair of Blue Eyes_, or _Tess_, one follows the fortunes of +young Somerset in _A Laodicean_ with constant fluctuation of faint hope +and real terror; for we know that with Mr. Hardy the worst may happen at +any moment. + +However dark may be his conception of life, Mr. Hardy's sense of humour +is unexcelled by his contemporaries in its subtlety of feeling and charm +of expression. His rustics, who have long received and deserved the +epithet "Shakespearian," arouse in every reader harmless and wholesome +delight. The shadow of the tragedy lifts in these wonderful pages, for +Mr. Hardy's laughter reminds one of what Carlyle said of Shakespeare's: +it is like sunshine on the deep sea. The childlike sincerity of these +shepherd farmers, the candour of their repartee and their appraisal of +gentle-folk are as irresistible as their patience and equable temper. +Everyone in the community seems to find his proper mental and moral +level. And their infrequent fits of irritation are as pleasant as their +more solemn moods. We can all sympathise (I hope) with the despair of +Joseph Poorgrass: "I was sitting at home looking for Ephesians and says +I to myself, 'Tis nothing but Corinthians and Thessalonians in this +danged Testament!" + + + + +III + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + + +Born in a little village in Ohio over seventy years ago, and growing up +with small Latin and less Greek, Mr. Howells may fairly be called a +self-educated man. Just why the epithet "self-made" should be applied to +those non-college-graduates who succeed in business, and withheld from +those who succeed in poetry and fiction, seems not entirely clear. +Perhaps it is tacitly assumed that those who become captains of industry +achieve prominence without divine assistance; whereas men of letters, +with or without early advantages, and whether grateful or not, have +unconscious communication with hidden forces. Be this as it may, the boy +Howells had little schooling and no college. All the public institutions +in the world, however, are but a poor makeshift in the absence of good +home training; and the future novelist's father was the right sort of +man and had the right sort of occupation to stimulate a clever and +ambitious son. The elder Howells was the editor of a country newspaper, +which, like a country doctor, makes up in variety of information what it +loses in spread of influence. The boy was a compositor before he was a +composer, as plenty of literary men since Richardson have been; he +helped to set up lyrics, news items, local gossip, the funny column, and +patent medicine advertisements. From mechanical he passed to original +work, both in his father's office and in other sanctums about the state; +sometimes acting not only as contributor, but "moulding public opinion" +from the editor's chair. And indeed he has never entirely stepped out of +the editorial role. During an amazingly busy life as novelist, +dramatist, poet, and foreign diplomat, Mr. Howells has acted as +editorial writer on the _Nation_, the _Atlantic_, the _Cosmopolitan +Magazine_, and _Harper's Monthly_. I think he would sometimes be +appalled at the prodigious amount of merely "timely" articles that he +has written, were it not for the fact that during his long career he has +never published a single line of which he need feel ashamed. + +Type-setters and printers are commonly men of ideas, who have +interesting minds, and are good to talk with. Mr. Howells was certainly +no exception to the rule, and to the foundation of his early education +as a compositor and journalist he added four years of study of the +Italian language and literature in the pleasant environment of Venice. +He has always been a man of peace; and it is interesting to remember +that during the four years of tumultuous and bloody civil war, Mr. +Howells was serving his country as a United States Consul in Italy, and +at the same time preparing to add to the kind of fame she most sorely +needs. The "woman-country" never meant to him what it signified to +Browning; but it has always been an inspiration, and he would have been +a different person without this foreign influence. Besides some critical +and scholarly works on Italian literature, much of his subsequent +writing has been done beyond the Alps, and the plot of one of his +foremost novels develops on the streets of Florence. And in another and +wholly delightful story, we have the keen pleasure of seeing Italian +life and society through the eyes of Lydia Blood. + +He formally began a literary career by the composition of a volume of +poems, as Blackmore, Hardy, Meredith, and many other novelists have seen +fit to do. He is not widely known as a poet to-day, though all his life +he has written more or less verse without achieving distinction; for he +is essentially a _prosateur_. In 1872, twelve years after the appearance +of his book of poems, came his first successful novel, _Their Wedding +Journey_. This story is written in the style that is responsible for +its author's fame and popularity; it is thoroughly typical of the whole +first part of his novel-production. It has that quiet stingless humour, +clever dialogue, and wholesome charm, that all readers of Mr. Howells +associate with his name. In other words, it is a clear manifestation of +his own personality. Now as to the permanent value and final place in +literature of these American novels, critics may differ; but there can +be only one opinion of the man who wrote them. + +The personality of Mr. Howells, as shown both in his objective novels +and in his subjective literary confessions, is one that irresistibly +commands our highest respect and our warmest affection. A simple, +democratic, unaffected, modest, kindly, humorous, healthy soul, with a +rare combination of rugged virility and extreme refinement. It is +exceedingly fortunate for America that such a man has for so many years +by common consent, at home and abroad, been regarded as the Dean of +American Letters. He has had more influence on the output of fiction in +America than any other living man. This influence has been entirely +wholesome, from the standpoint of both morals and Art. He has +consistently stood for Reticent Realism. He has ridiculed what he is +fond of calling "romantic rot," and his own novels have been a silent +but emphatic protest against "mentioning the unmentionable." Every now +and then there has risen a violent revolt against his leadership, the +latest outspoken attack coming from a novelist of distinction, Gertrude +Atherton. In the year 1907 she relieved her mind by declaring that Mr. +Howells has been and is a writer for boarding-school misses; that he has +never penetrated deeply into life; and that not only has his own +timidity prevented him from courageously revealing the hearts of men and +women, but that his position of power and influence has cast a blight on +American fiction. Thanks to him, she insists, American novels are pale +and colourless productions, and are known the world over for their +tameness and insipidity. Mrs. Atherton has been supported in this revolt +by many very young literary aspirants, who lack her wisdom and her +experience, and whose chief dislike of Mr. Howells, when finally +analysed, seems to be directed against his intense ethical earnestness. +For, at heart, Mr. Howells resembles most Anglo-Saxon novelists in being +a moralist. + +It is true that American novelists and playwrights are at one great +disadvantage as compared with contemporary Continental writers. Owing to +the public conscience, they are compelled to work in a limited field. +The things that we leave to medical specialists and to alienists are +staple subject-matter in high-class French and German fiction. In a +European dictionary there is no such word as "reserve." French writers +like Brieux protest that American conceptions of French morals are based +on the reading of French books whose authors have no standing in Paris, +and whose very names are unknown to their countrymen. But this protest +fades before facts. The facts are that Parisian novelists and dramatists +of the highest literary and social distinction, who are awarded national +prizes, admitted to the French Academy, and who receive all sorts of +public honours, write and publish books, which, if produced in the +United States by an American, would bar him from the houses and from the +society of many decent people, and might cause his arrest. At any rate, +he would be regarded as a criminal rather than as a hero. I have in mind +plays by Donnay, recently elected to the French Academy; plays by Capus, +who stands high in public regard; novels by Regnier, who has received +all sorts of honours. These men are certainly not fourth- and +fifth-class writers; they are thoroughly representative of Parisian +literary taste. Regnier has not hesitated to write, and the editors have +not hesitated to accept, for the periodical _L'Illustration_, which goes +into family circles everywhere, a novel that could not possibly be +published in any respectable magazine in America. I do not say that +Americans are one peg higher in morality than Frenchmen; it may be that +we are hypocrites, and that the French are models of virtue; but the +difference in moral tone between the average American play or novel and +that produced in Paris is simply enormous. + +The modern German novel is no better than the French. Last night I +finished reading Sudermann's long and powerful story, _Das hohe Lied_. I +could not help thinking how entirely different it is in its +subject-matter, in its characters, in its scenes, and in its atmosphere, +from the average American novel. Now of course the subject that arouses +the most instant interest from all classes of people, both young and +old, innocent and guilty, is the subject of sex. A large number of +modern successful French and German novels and plays contain no other +matter of any real importance--and would be intolerably dull were it not +for their dealing with sexual crimes. The Continental writer is barred +by no restraint; when he has nothing to say, as is very often the case, +he simply plays his trump card. The American, however, is not permitted +to penetrate beyond the bounds of decency; which shuts him off from the +chief field where European writers dwell. He must somehow make his novel +interesting to his readers, just as a man is expected to make himself +interesting in social conversation, without recourse to pruriency or +obscenity. + +Leaving out of debate for a moment the moral aspect of Art, is it +necessarily true that novels which plunge freely into sex questions are +a more faithful representation of life than those that observe the +limits of good taste? I think not. The men and women in many Continental +stories have apparently nothing to do except to gratify their passions. +All the thousand and one details that make up the daily routine of the +average person are sacrificed to emphasise one thing; but this, even in +most degraded Sybarites, would be only a part of their actual activity. +I believe that _A Modern Instance_ is just as true to life as _Bel-Ami_. +It would really be a misfortune if Mrs. Atherton could have her way; for +then American novelists would copy the faults of European writers +instead of their virtues. The reason why French plays and French novels +are generally superior to American is not because they are indecent; and +we shall never raise our standard merely by copying foreign immorality. +The superiority of the French is an intellectual and artistic +superiority; they excel us in literary style. If we are to imitate them, +let us imitate their virtues and not their defects, even though the task +in this case be infinitely more difficult. + +And, granting what Mrs. Atherton says, that the reticence of American +fiction is owing largely to the influence of Mr. Howells, have we not +every reason to be grateful to him? Has not the modern novel a +tremendous influence in education, and do we really wish to see young +men and women, boys and girls, reading stories that deal mainly with +sex? Is it well that they should abandon Dickens, Thackeray, and +Stevenson, for the novel in vogue on the Continent? It is often said +that French fiction is intended only for seasoned readers, and is +carefully kept from youth. But this is gammon, and should deceive only +the grossly ignorant. As if anything nowadays could be kept from youth! +With the exception of girls who are very strictly brought up, young +people in Europe have the utmost freedom in reading. In one of Regnier's +novels, which purports to be autobiographical, the favourite bedside +book of the boy in his teens is _Mademoiselle de Maupin_. In a secret +ballot vote recently taken by a Russian periodical, to discover who are +the most popular novelists with high-school boys and girls in Russia, it +appeared that of all foreign writers Guy de Maupassant stood first. Is +this really a desirable state of affairs? Suppose it be true, as it +probably is, that the average Russian, German, or French boy of +seventeen is intellectually more mature than his English or American +contemporary--are we willing to make the physical and moral sacrifice +for the merely mental advance? Is it not better that our boys should be +playing football and reading _Treasure Island_, than that they should +be spending their leisure hours in the manner described by Regnier? + +Mr. Howells's creed in Art is perhaps more open to criticism than his +creed in Ethics. His artistic creed is narrow, strict, and definite. He +has expressed it in his essays, and exemplified it in his novels. His +two doctrinal works, _Criticism and Fiction_, and _My Literary +Passions_, resemble Zola's _Le Roman Experimental_ in dogmatic +limitation. The creed of Mr. Howells is realism, which he has not only +faithfully followed in his creative work, but which he uses as a +standard by which to measure the value of other novelists, both living +and dead. As genius always refuses to be measured by any standard, and +usually defies classification, Mr. Howells's literary estimates of other +men's work are far more valuable as self-revelation than as adequate +appraisal. Indeed, some of his criticisms seem bizarre. Where works of +fiction do not run counter to his literary dogmas, he is abundantly +sympathetic and more than generous; many a struggling young writer has +cause to bless him for powerful assistance; apparently there has never +been one grain of envy, jealousy, or meanness in the mind of our +American dean. But, broadly speaking, Mr. Howells has not the true +critical mind, which places itself for the moment in the mental +attitude of the author criticised; he is primarily a creative rather +than a critical writer. Here he is in curious opposition to his friend +and contemporary, Henry James. Mr. James is a natural-born critic, one +of the best America has ever produced. His essay on Balzac was a +masterpiece. His intellectual power is far more critical than creative; +as a novelist, he seems quite inferior to Mr. Howells. And his best +story, the little sketch, _Daisy Miller_, was properly called by its +author a "study." + +Mr. Howells's literary career has two rather definite periods. The break +was caused largely by the influence of Tolstoi. The earlier novels are +more purely artistic; they are accurate representations of American +characters, for the most part joyous in mood, full of genuine humour, +and natural charm. A story absolutely expressive of the author as we +used to know him is _The Lady of the Aroostook_. As a sympathetic and +delightful portrayal of a New England country girl, this book is one of +his best productions. The voyage across the Atlantic; the surprise +caused by Lydia's name and appearance, and homely conversation. "I want +to know!" cried Lydia. The second surprise caused by her splendid +singing voice. The third surprise caused to the sophisticated young +gentleman by discovering that he was in love with her. His rapture at +his glorious good-fortune in saving the drunken wretch from drowning, +thus acting as hero before his lady's eyes; her virginal experiences in +Italy; the final happy consummation--all this is in Mr. Howells's best +vein, the Howells of thirty years ago. The story is full of observation, +cerebration, and human affection. As Professor Beers has remarked, if +Mr. Howells knows his countrymen no more intimately than does Henry +James, at least he loves them better. This charming novel was rapidly +followed in the next few years by a succession of books that are at once +good to read, and of permanent value as reflections of American life, +manners, and morals. These were _A Modern Instance_, _A Woman's Reason_, +_The Rise of Silas Lapham_, and _Indian Summer_; making a literary +harvest of which not only their author, but all Americans, have reason +to be justly proud. + +Somewhere along in the eighties Mr. Howells came fully within the grasp +of the mighty influence of Tolstoi, an influence, which, no matter how +beneficial in certain ways, has not been an unmixed blessing on his +foreign disciples. What the American owes to the great Russian, and how +warm is his gratitude therefor, any one may see for himself by reading +_My Literary Passions_. It is indeed difficult to praise the maker of +_Anna Karenina_ too highly; but nobody wanted Mr. Howells to become a +lesser Tolstoi. When we wish to read Tolstoi, we know where to find +him; we wish Mr. Howells to remain his own self, shrewdly observant, and +kindly humorous. The latter novels of the American show the same kind of +change that took place in Bjoernson, that has also characterised Bourget; +it is the partial abandonment of the novel as an art form, and its +employment as a social, political, or religious tract. Mr. Howells's +saving sense of humour has kept him from dull extremes; but when _A +Hazard of New Fortunes_ appeared, we knew that there was more in the +title than the writer intended; our old friend had put on Saul's armour. +As has been suggested above, this change was not entirely an individual +one; it was symptomatic of the development of the modern novel all over +the world. But in this instance it seemed particularly regrettable. We +have our fill of strikes and labour troubles in the daily newspaper, +without going to our novelist for them. With one exception, it is +probable that not a single one of Mr. Howells's novels published during +the last twenty years is as good, from the artistic and literary point +of view, as the admirable work he produced before 1889. The exception is +_The Kentons_ (1902), in which he returned to his earlier manner, in a +triumphant way that showed he had not lost his skill. Indeed, there is +no trace of decay in the other books of his late years; there is merely +a loss of charm. + +I think that _Indian Summer_, despite its immense popularity at the time +of publication, has never received the high praise it really deserves. +It is written in a positive glow of artistic creation. I believe that of +all its author's works, it is the one whose composition he most keenly +enjoyed. The conversations--always a great feature of his stories--are +immensely clever; I suspect that as he wrote them he was often agreeably +surprised at his own inspiration. The three characters, the middle-aged +man and woman, and the romantic young girl, are admirably set off; no +one has ever better shown the fact that it is quite possible for one to +imagine oneself in love when really one is fancy-free. The delicate +shades of jealousy in the intimate talks between the two women are +exquisitely done; the experience of the grown woman contrasting finely +with the imagination of the young girl. The difference between a man of +forty and a woman of twenty, shown here not in heavy tragedy, but in the +innumerable, convincing details of daily human intercourse, is finely +emphasised; and we can feel the great relief of both when the engagement +tie is broken. This story in its way is a masterpiece; and anyone who +lacks enthusiasm for its author ought to read it again. + +His most powerful novel is probably _A Modern Instance_. This, like many +American and English fictions, first appeared in serial form--a fact +that should be known before one indulges in criticism. The old objection +to this method was that it led the writer to attempt to end each section +dramatically, leaving the reader with a sharp appetite for more. The +movement of the narrative, when the book was finally published as a +whole, resembled a series of jumps. Someone has said, that even so fine +a novel as _Far from the Madding Crowd_ was a succession of brilliant +leaps; whether or not this was caused by its original serial printing, I +do not know. This difficulty would never appear in Mr. Howells, at all +events; because his stories do not impress us by their special dramatic +scenes, or supreme moments, but rather by their completeness. The other +objection, however, has some force here--the fact that details may be +extended beyond their artistic proportion, in a manner that does not +militate against the separate instalments, but is seen to mar the book +as a whole. The logging camp incident in _A Modern Instance_ is +prolonged to a fault. Proportion is sacrificed to realism. From this +point of view, it is well to remember that _The Newcomes_ appeared in +single numbers, whereas _Henry Esmond_ was published originally as a +complete work. + +But this slight defect is more than atoned for by the power shown in the +depiction of character. This is a study of degeneration, not dealing +with remote characters in far-off historical situations, but brought +home to our very doors. One feels that this dreadful fate might happen +to one's neighbours--might happen to oneself. It seems to me a greater +book in every way than _Romola_, though I am not prepared to say that +Mr. Howells is a greater novelist than George Eliot. There is all the +difference between Tito Melema and Bartley Hubbard that there is between +a fancy picture and a portrait. Mr. Howells is fond of using +Shakespearian quotations as titles; witness _The Counterfeit +Presentment_, _The Undiscovered Country_, _The Quality of Mercy_, and _A +Modern Instance_. Now the word "modern," as every student of Shakespeare +knows, means in the poet's works almost the opposite of what it +signifies to-day. "Full of wise saws and modern instances" is equivalent +to saying prosaically, "full of sententious proverbs and old, trite +illustrations." In the Shakespearian sense, Mr. Howells's title might be +translated "A Familiar Example"--for it is not only a story of modern +American life, it portrays what is unfortunately an instance all too +familiar. Bartley Hubbard is the typical representative of the "smart" +young American. He is not in the least odious when we first make his +acquaintance. His skill in address and in adaptation to society assure +his instant popularity; and at heart he is a good fellow, quite unlike +a designing villain. He would rather do right than do wrong, provided +both are equally convenient. He simply follows the line of least +resistance. Nor is he by nature a Bohemian; he loves Marcia, is proud of +her fresh beauty, and enjoys domestic life. Then he has the fascinating +quality of true humour. His conversations with his wife, when he is free +from worry, are exceedingly attractive to the impersonal listener. He is +just like thousands of clever young American journalists--quick-witted, +enterprising, energetic, with a sure nose for news; there is, in fact, +only one thing the matter with Bartley. Although, when life is flowing +evenly, he does not realise his deficiency, he actually has at heart no +moral principle, no ethical sense, no honour. The career of such a man +will depend entirely upon circumstances; because his standard of virtue +is not where it should be, within his own mind, but without. Like many +other men, he can resist anything but temptation. Whether he will become +a good citizen or a blackleg, depends not in the least upon himself, but +wholly upon the events through which he moves. Had he married exactly +the right sort of girl, and had some rich uncle left the young couple a +fortune, it is probable that neither his friends, nor his wife, nor even +he himself, would have guessed at his capacity for evil. He would have +remained popular in the community, and died both lamented and +respected. But the difficulty is that he did not marry wisely, and he +subsequently became short of cash. Now, as some writer has said, it does +not matter so much whether a man marries with wisdom or the reverse, nor +whether he behaves in other emergencies with prudence or folly; what +really matters is how he behaves himself _after_ the marriage, or after +any other crisis where he may have chosen foolishly. But Bartley, like +many other easy-going youths, was no man for adverse circumstances. +Almost imperceptibly at first his degeneration begins; his handsome +figure shows a touch of grossness; the refinement in his face becomes +blurred; drinking ceases to be a pleasure, and becomes a habit. +Meanwhile, as what he calls his bad luck increases, quarrels with his +wife become more frequent; try as he will, there is always a sheaf of +unpaid bills at the end of the month; his home loses its charm. The +mental and spiritual decline of the man is shown repulsively by his +physical appearance. No one who has read the book can possibly forget +his broad back as he sits in the courtroom, and the horrible ring of fat +that hangs over his collar. The devil has done his work with such +technique that Bartley as we first see him, and Bartley as we last see +him, seem to be two utterly different and distinct persons and +personalities; it is with an irrepressible shudder that we recall the +time when this coarse, fat sot was a slender, graceful young man, who +charmed all acquaintances by his ease of manner and winsome +conversation. And yet, as one looks back over his life, every stage in +the transition is clear, logical, and wholly natural. + +From another point of view this novel is a study of the passion of +jealousy. No other American novel, so far as I know, has given so +accurate a picture of the gradual and subtle poisoning produced by this +emotion, and only one American play,--Clyde Fitch's thoughtful and +powerful drama, _The Girl with the Green Eyes_. It is curious that +jealousy, so sinister and terrible in its effects on character, should +usually appear on the stage and in fiction as comic. It is seldom +employed as a leading motive in tragedy, though Shakespeare showed its +possibilities; but one frequently sees it in broad farce. Of all the +passions, there is none which has less mirth than jealousy. It is +fundamentally tragic; and in _A Modern Instance_, we see the evil +transformation it works in Marcia, and its force in accelerating her +husband's degeneration. Marcia is an example of the wish of Keats--she +lives a life of sensations rather than of thoughts; and jealousy can be +conquered only by mental power, never by emotional. Marcia has no +intellectual resources; her love for her husband is her whole existence. +She has no more mind than many another American country girl who comes +home from boarding-school. As one critic has pointed out, "she has not +yet emerged from the elemental condition of womanhood." Jealousy is, of +course, an "animal quality," and Marcia, without knowing it, is simply a +tamed, pretty, affectionate young animal. Her jealousy is entirely +without foundation, but it causes her the most excruciating torment, and +constantly widens the breach between herself and the man she loves. If +she had only married Halleck! She would never have been jealous with +him. But jealousy is like an ugly weed in a beautiful garden; it exists +only where there is love. And a girl like Marcia could never have +returned the love of a stodgy man like Halleck. One cannot help asking +three vain questions as one contemplates the ruins of her happiness and +sees the cause. If she had never met Bartley, and had married Halleck, +would she have been better off? are we to understand that she is finally +saved by Halleck? and if so, what is the nature of her salvation? + +The old sceptical lawyer, Marcia's father, is one of the most convincing +characters that Mr. Howells has ever drawn. Those who have lived in New +England know this man, for they have seen him often. He is shrewd, +silent, practical, undemonstrative, yet his unspoken love for his +daughter is almost terrible in its intensity, and finally brings him to +the grave. Although he admires young Bartley's cleverness, he would have +admired him more had he been less clever. He has a sure instinct against +the young man from the start, and knows there can be only one outcome of +such a marriage; because he is better acquainted with the real character +of husband and wife than they are with themselves. Squire Gaylord is a +person of whose creation any novelist in the history of fiction might be +proud. + +When _A Modern Instance_ was first published, a contemporary review +called it "a book that all praise but none like." I imagine that the +unpleasant sensations it awakens in every reader are like those roused +by Mr. Barrie's _Sentimental Tommy_. The picture is simply too faithful +to be agreeable. Everyone beholds his own faults and tendencies clearly +portrayed, and the result is quite other than reassuring. The book finds +us all at home. But, as Gogol, the great Russian, used to say, quoting +an old Slavonic proverb, "We must not blame the mirror if the face looks +ugly." + +It is both instructive and entertaining to try the effect of this novel +on a representative group of American college undergraduates. Those who +had lived in New England villages, and were familiar with the scenes +described, were loud in their praises of the background, and of the +Gaylord family. One young man remarked--he was at Yale--"I know a young +journalist who was last year at Harvard, who is going to the devil in +very much the same way." Another said, with an experience hardly +consonant with his years, that he had known women just as jealous as +Marcia. Most of them, however, believed that her jealousy was grossly +exaggerated; it looks so like folly to those yet untouched by the +passion of love. Another truthful and modest youth said pathetically, "I +am too young to appreciate this book." Still another remarked with rare +lucidity and definiteness of penetration, "In reading this story somehow +something struck me unfavourably." Minor improbabilities in the novel +produced the greatest shock--the hot-scotch episode seemed quite +impossible, and Mr. Howells was thought to be a poor judge of the +effects of whiskey. But the criticism I enjoyed most came from the +undergraduate who said in all sincerity, "I think this is a very good +book for young ladies to read before getting married." So indeed it is. + +In the year 1902, by the publication of _The Kentons_, Mr. Howells gave +us a most delightful surprise. It was like the return of an old friend +from a far journey. In literature it was as though Bjoernson should +publish a story like _A Happy Boy_, or as though Mr. Hardy should give +us a tale like _Under the Greenwood Tree_. _The Kentons_ is a thoroughly +charming international novel, containing the pleasant adventures of an +Ohio family on the ocean liner and in Europe, written in the _Aroostook_ +style, sparkling with humour, and rich in sympathy and tenderness. +Political, social, and ethical problems are conspicuously absent, and +the only material used by the writer is human nature. This is one of the +best books he has ever written; it has all the charm of _Their Wedding +Journey_, plus the wisdom and observation that come only by years. It is +wholesome, healthy, realistic; a thoroughly representative American +novel from a master's hand. In a French _roman_, Bittredge would of +course have been a libertine, and one of the girls ruined by him. In +_The Kentons_, he is merely _fresh_, and though he causes some trouble, +everybody in the end is better off for the experience. Mr. Howells seems +especially to dislike _Frechheit_ in young men, and he has made the +vulgarity and assurance of Bittredge both offensive and absurd. We have +too many Bittredges in the United States; and some of them do not lose +their bittredgidity with advancing years. + +The five members of the Kenton family are wonderfully well drawn, and +are just such people as we fortunately meet every day. The purity and +sweetness of married and family life are beautifully exemplified here; +they are exactly what we see in thousands of American homes, and +constitute the real answer to modern attacks on the conjugal relation. +The judge and his wife are two companions, growing old together in +simplicity and innocence, happy in the truest sense--loving each other +far more in age than in youth, which is perfectly natural in life if not +in fiction; because every day they become more necessary to each other +and have common interests extending over many years. The scene in their +bedroom, as they talk together before slumber, while the old Judge winds +up his watch, is a veritable triumph of Art. + +The younger daughter Lottie is a vivid portrait of the typical American +high-school girl, slangy, superficial, flirtatious, not quite vulgar, +and in every emergency with young men fully capable of taking care of +herself. After a round of joyous, heart-free, and innocent familiarities +with various youthful admirers, she finally becomes an admirable wife +and housekeeper. Her sister Ellen is of an opposite temperament, pale, +slight, and non-athletic. She is entirely different from the Booth +Tarkington or Richard Harding Davis heroine, and in her purity, +delicacy, and refinement, takes us back to old-fashioned fiction. As a +spectator on the steamer says of her, "that pale girl is adorable." In +her shyness and extraordinary loveliness she reminds us of Turgenev's +spiritual Lisa. The scene in the night, where her young brother steals +to her bed and pours into her sympathetic ears all the troubled passion +and sorrow, all the embarrassment and suffering of his sensitive boy's +heart, is exceedingly beautiful and tender. He knows _she_ will +understand. And at last it is Ellen, and not Lottie, who becomes the +fashionable, aristocratic, New York woman--preserving in her wealthy +environment all the fruits of the spirit. + +Boyne, the small boy, the "kid brother," is a fine illustration of the +enthusiasm for humanity so characteristic of Mr. Howells. It is +instructive to compare this little man with the young brother of Daisy +Miller. Both are at the age most trying to their elders, and both are +faithfully portrayed; but Randolph C. Miller is made particularly +obnoxious, even odious, while one cannot help loving Boyne. The +difference is that one is drawn with the finger of scorn and the other +with the insight of sympathy. Mr. Howells calls Boyne "a mass of +helpless sweetness though he did not know it." His romantic love for the +young queen of Holland and the burning mortification he suffers thereby, +are sufficiently easy to understand. The contrast between the high +seriousness with which he takes himself, and the impression he makes on +others, is something that every man who looks back will remember. As +the novelist puts it, "He thought he was an iceberg when he was merely +an ice cream of heroic mould." + +_The Kentons_, like some other novels by Mr. Howells, may seem to many +readers superficial, because it is so largely taken up with the trivial +details of daily existence. It is really a profound study of life, made +by an artist who has not only the wisdom of the head, but the deeper +wisdom of the heart. + + + + +IV + +BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON + + +For over half a century this intellectual athlete has been one of the +busiest men in the world. A partisan fighter born and bred, he has been +active in every political Skandinavian struggle; in religious questions +he has fought first on one side and then on the other, changing only by +honest conviction, and hitting with all his might every time; to him the +word "education" is as a red rag to a bull, for he believes that it has +been mainly bad, and if people will only listen, he can make it mainly +good; in a passion of chivalry, he has drawn his pen for the cause of +Woman, whose "sphere" he hopes to change--the most modern and the most +popular of all the vain attempts to square the circle; his powerful +voice has been heard on the lecture platform, not only in his own +beloved country, but all over Europe and in America; he has served for +years as Theatre-Director, in the determination to convert the +playhouse, like everything else he touches, into a vast moral force. In +addition to all the excitement of a life spent in fighting, his purely +literary activity has been enormous in quantity and astonishing in +range. His numerous dramas treat of all possible themes, from the old +Sagas to modern divorce laws; and after exhausting all earthly material, +he has boldly advanced into the realm of the supernatural; his splendid +play, _Beyond Human Power_, holds the boards in most European cities, +and has exercised a profound influence on modern drama. His novels are +as different in style and purpose as it is possible for the novels of +one man to be; and some of them are already classics. A man with such an +endowment, with such tremendous convictions, with buoyant optimism and +terrific energy, has made no small stir in the world, and it will be a +long time before the name of Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson is forgotten. + +Had he not possessed, in addition to a fine mind, a magnificent physical +frame, he would long since have vanished into that spiritual world that +has interested him so deeply. But he has the physique of a Norse god. +Many instances of his bodily strength and endurance have been cited; it +is sufficient to remember that even after his mane of hair had become +entirely grey he regularly took his bath by standing naked under a +mountain waterfall. Let that suffice, as one trial of it would for most +of us. He came honestly by his health and vigour, born as he was on a +lonely mountain-side in Norway. It was in the winter of 1832 that this +sturdy baby gave his first cry for freedom, his father being a village +pastor, whose flock were literally scattered among steep and desolate +rocks, where the salient feature of the landscape during nine months of +the year was snow. More than once the good shepherd had to seek and save +that which was lost. For society, the little boy had a few pet animals +and the dreams engendered by supreme loneliness. But when he was six +years old, the father was fortunately called to a pastorate in a +beautiful valley on the west coast, surrounded by noble and inspiring +scenery, the effect of which is visibly seen in all his early stories. +We cannot help comparing this vale of beauty, trailing clouds of glory +over Bjoernson's boyhood, with the flat, wet, dismal gloom of East +Prussia, that oppressed so heavily the child Sudermann, and made Dame +Care look so grey. + +At the grammar school, at the high school, and at the university he +showed little interest in the curriculum, and no particular aptitude for +study; but before leaving college he had already begun original +composition, and at the age of twenty-four he published a masterpiece. +This was the pastoral romance, _Synnoeve Solbakken_, which for sheer +beauty of style and atmosphere he has never surpassed. For some years +preceding the date of its appearance there had been a lull in literary +activity in Norway. Out of this premonitory hush of stillness came a +beautiful voice, which by the newness and freshness of its tones aroused +immediate interest. Everybody listened, enchanted by the strange +harmony. Men saw that a new prophet had arisen in Israel. The absolute +simplicity of the style, the naivete of the story, the naturalness of +the characters, the short, passionate sentences like those of the Sagas, +the lyrically poetic atmosphere, appealed at once to the Norwegian +heart. Why is it that we are surprised in books and in plays by simple +language and natural characters? It must be that we are so accustomed to +literary conventions remote from actual life, that when we behold real +people and hear natural talk in works of art our first emotion is glad +astonishment. For the same reason we praise certain persons for +displaying what we call common sense. Be this as it may, no one believed +that a pastoral romance could be so vigorous, so fresh, and so true. Of +all forms of literature, pastoral tales, whether in verse or in prose, +have been commonly the most artificial and the most insipid; but here +was the breath of life. I can recommend nothing better for the soul +weary of the closeness of modern naturalism than a course of reading in +the early work of Bjoernson. + +He followed this initial success with three other beautiful prose +lyrics--_Arne_, _A Happy Boy_, and _The Fisher Maiden_. These stories +exhibit the same qualities so strikingly displayed in _Synnoeve +Solbakken_. In all this artistic production Bjoernson is an +impressionist, reproducing with absolute fidelity what he saw, both in +the world of matter and of spirit. We may rely faithfully on the +correctness of these pictures, whether they portray natural scenery, +country customs, or peasant character. We inhale Norway. We can smell +the pines. The nipping and eager air, the dark green resinous +forests--we feel these as plainly as if we were physically present in +the Land of the Midnight Sun. The kindly simplicity of the peasants, the +village ceremonies at weddings and funerals, the cheerful loneliness +with sheep on mountain pasture, and the subdued but universal note of +deep rural piety, make one feel as though the whole community were bound +by gold chains about the feet of God. Bjoernson says, "The church is in +the foreground of Norwegian peasant life." And indeed everything seems +to centre around God's acre, and the spire of the meeting-house points +in the same direction as the stories themselves. Many beautiful passages +affect us like noble music; our eyes are filled with happy tears. + +In view of the strong and ardent personality of the author, it is +curious that these early romances should be so truly objective. One +feels his personality in a general way, as one feels that of Turgenev; +but the young writer separates himself entirely from the course of the +story; he nowhere interferes. The characters apparently develop without +his assistance, as the events take place without any manipulation. As a +work of objective art, _Synnoeve Solbakken_ approaches flawless +perfection. It has one plot, which travels in one direction--forward. +The persons are intensely Norwegian, but there their similarity ends. +Each is individualised. The simplicity of the story is so remarkable +that to some superficial and unobservant readers it has seemed childish. +The very acme of Art is so close to nature that it sometimes is mistaken +for no art at all, like the acting of Garrick or the style of Jane +Austen. Adverse criticisms are the highest compliments. Language is well +managed when it expresses profound thoughts in words clear to a child. + +The love scenes in this narrative are idyllic; in fact, the whole book +is an idyl. It seems radiant with sunshine. It is as pure as a mountain +lake, and as refreshing. And besides the artistic unity of the work, +that satisfies one's standards so fully, there is an exquisite something +hard to define; a play of fancy, a veil of poetic beauty lingering over +the story, that makes us feel when we have closed the book as if we were +gazing at a clear winter sunset. + +Bjoernson has the creative imagination of the true poet. In the wonderful +prologue to _Arne_ he gives the trees separate personalities, in a +manner to arouse almost the envy of Thomas Hardy. Indeed, the author of +_The Woodlanders_ has never felt the trees more intensely than the +Norwegian novelist. The prose style unconsciously breaks into verse form +at times, with the natural grace and ease of a singing bird. Not the +least charming incidents in Bjoernson's romances are the frequent lyrics, +that spring up like cowslips in a pasture. + + "Punctual as Springtide forth peep they." + + * * * * * + +The novels in Bjoernson's second period are so totally unlike those we +have just been considering that if all his work had been published +anonymously, no one would have ventured to say that the same man had +written _A Happy Boy_ and _In God's Way_. There came a pause in his +creative activity. He wrote little imaginative literature, and many +thought the well of his inspiration had gone dry. Really he was passing +through a belated _Sturm und Drang_; a tremendous intellectual struggle +and fermentation had set in, from which he emerged mentally a changed +man, with a new outfit of opinions and ideas. At nearly the same time +his great contemporary Tolstoi was also in the Slough of Despond, but he +climbed out on the other side and set his face towards the Celestial +City. Bjoernson's floundering ultimately carried him in precisely the +opposite direction. While Tolstoi was studying the New Testament, +Bjoernson applied himself to Darwin, Mill, and Spencer, and became +completely converted from the Christianity of his youth. Many minds +would have been temporarily paralysed by such a result, and would +finally have become either pessimistic or coldly critical. But Bjoernson +simply could not endure to be a gloomy, cynical spectator of life, like +his countryman, Ibsen, any more than he could leave his native land and +calmly view its nakedness from the comfortable environment of Munich or +Rome. Bjoernson has the sort of intellect that cannot remain in +equilibrium. He was ever a fighter, and cannot live without something to +fight for. The natural optimism of his temperament, so opposed in every +way to the blank despair of Ibsen, made him see in his new views the way +of salvation. He is just as sure he is right now as he was when he held +opinions exactly the contrary. With joyful ardour he became the champion +and propagandist of democracy in politics and of free thought in +religion; apparently adopting Spencer's saying, "To the true reformer no +institution is sacred, no belief above criticism." For the word +"reformer" precisely describes Bjoernson; like the chief characters in +his later novels, he is an apostle of reform, zealous, tireless, and +tiresome. + +Lowell, in his fine essay on Gray, said that one reason why the +eighteenth century was so comfortable was that "responsibility for the +universe had not yet been invented." Now Bjoernson feels this +responsibility with all the strength of his nature, and however +admirable it may be as a moral quality, it has vitiated his artistic +career. As he renounced Christianity for agnosticism, so he renounced +romance for realism. The novels written since 1875 are not only unlike +his early pastoral romances in literary style; they are totally +different productions in tone, in spirit, and in intention. And, from +the point of view of art, they are, in my opinion, as inferior to the +work of his youth as Hawthorne's campaign _Life of Pierce_ is inferior +to _The Scarlet Letter_. In every way Bjoernson is farther off from +heaven than when he was a boy. + +In addition to many short sketches, his later period includes three +realistic novels. These are: _Flags Are Flying in Town and Harbour_, +translated into English with the title, _The Heritage of the Kurts_, for +it is a study in heredity; _In God's Way_,[4] loudly proclaimed as his +masterpiece, and _Mary_. The first two originally attracted more +attention abroad than at home. The _Flags_ hung idly in Norway, and the +orthodox were not anxious to get in God's way. But the second book +produced considerable excitement in England, which finally reacted in +Christiania and Copenhagen; it is still hotly discussed. In these three +novels the author has stepped out of the role of artist and become a +kind of professor of pedagogy, his speciality being the education of +women. In _Flags_ the principal part of the story is taken up with a +girls' school, which gives the novelist an opportunity to include a +confused study of heredity, and to air all sorts of educational theory. +The chief one appears to be that in the curriculum for young girls the +"major" should be physiology. Hygiene, which so many bewildered persons +are accepting just now in lieu of the Gospel, plays a heavy part in +Bjoernson's later work. The gymnasium in _Flags_ takes the place of the +church in _Synnoeve_; and acrobatic feats of the body are deemed more +healthful than the religious aspirations of the soul. Kallem, a +prominent character of the story _In God's Way_, usually appears walking +on his hands, which is not the only fashion in which he is upside down. +The book _Flags_ is, frankly speaking, an intolerable bore. The hero, +Rendalen, who also appears in the subsequent novel, is the mouthpiece of +the new opinions of the author; a convenient if clumsy device, for +whenever Bjoernson wishes to expound his views on education, hygiene, or +religion, he simply makes Rendalen deliver a lecture. Didactic novels +are in general a poor substitute either for learning or for fiction, +but they are doubly bad when the author is confused in his ideas of +science and in his notions of art. One general "lesson" emerges from the +jargon of this book--that men should suffer for immorality as severely +as women, a doctrine neither new nor practicable. The difficulty is that +with Bjoernson, as with some others who shout this edict, the equalising +of the punishment takes the form of leaving the men as they are, and +issuing a general pardon to the women. Rendalen, the head-master of the +school, is constantly bringing up this topic, and he makes it the chief +subject for discussion in the girls' debating society! These females are +going to be emancipated. A pseudo-scientific twist is also given to this +novel by the introduction of mesmerism and hypnotic influence, matters +in which the author is deeply interested. We are given to understand +that a large number of women are annually ruined, not by their lack of +moral conviction and will power, but simply by the hypnotic influence of +men. One may perhaps reasonably doubt the ultimate value of a wide +dissemination of this great idea, especially in a young ladies' +seminary. To the unsympathetic reader, the one question that will keep +him afloat in all this welter, is not concerned with pedagogy; it is the +honest attempt to discover why the book bears its strange title. +Unfortunately he will not find out until the last leaf. Then + + "the connexion of which with the plot one sees." + +[4] In the original the title is "In God's Ways." + +It is pleasant to take up the volume _In God's Way_, for, however +disappointing it may be to those who know the young Bjoernson, it is +vastly superior to _Flags_. It is what is called to-day a "strong" +novel, and has naturally evoked the widest variation of comment. By many +it has been greeted with enthusiastic admiration and by many with +outspoken disgust. Psychologically, it is indeed powerful. The +characters are interesting, and they develop in a way that may or may +not be God's, but resemble His in being mysterious. One cannot foresee +in the early chapters what is going to happen to the _dramatis personae_, +nor what is to be our final attitude toward any of them. Think of the +impression made on us by our first acquaintance with Josephine, or +Kallem, or Ragni, or Ole; and then compare it with the state of our +feelings as we draw near the end. Not one of these characters remains +the same; each one develops, and develops as he might in actual life. +Bjoernson does not approach his men and women from an easy chair, in the +descriptive manner; once created, we feel that they would grow without +his aid. + +For all this particular triumph of art, _In God's Way_ is plainly a +didactic novel, with the author preaching from beginning to end. The +"fighting" quality in the novelist gets the better of his literary +genius. We have a story in the extreme realistic style, marked by +occasional scenes of great beauty and force; but the exposition of +doctrine is somewhat vague and confused, and the construction of the +whole work decidedly inartistic. Two general points, however, are made +clear: First, that one may walk in God's way without believing in God. +Religion is of no importance in comparison with conduct, nor have the +two things any vital or necessary connexion. This is a modern view, and +perhaps a natural reaction from the strictness of Bjoernson's childhood +training. Second, that virtue is a matter entirely of the heart, bearing +no relation whatever to the statute-book. A woman may be legally an +adulteress and yet absolutely pure. This also is quite familiar to us in +the pages of modern dramatists and novelists. Bjoernson has taken an +extraordinary instance to prove his thesis, a thesis that perhaps needs +no emphasis, for human nature is only too well disposed to make its +moral creed coincide with its bodily instincts. + +The same theme--mental as opposed to physical female chastity--is the +leading idea of _Mary_, a novel that has had considerable success in +Norway and in Germany, but has only this year been translated into +English. This work of his old age shows not the slightest trace of +decay. It is an interesting and powerful analysis of a girl's heart, +written in short, vigorous sentences. Mary, after taking plenty of time +for reflexion, and without any solicitation, deliberately gives herself +to her lover, in a manner exactly similar to a scene in Maupassant's +novel, _Notre Coeur_. Her fiance is naturally amazed, as there has been +nothing leading up to this; she comes to him of her own free will. Her +theory of conduct (which exemplifies that of Bjoernson) is that a woman +is the sovereign mistress of her own body, and can do what she pleases. +There is nothing immoral in a woman's free gift of herself to her lover, +provided she does it out of her royal bounty, and not as a weak yielding +to masculine pursuit. The next day Mary is grievously disappointed to +discover that, instead of the homage and worship she expected, the +erstwhile timid lover glories in the sense of possession. She fears that +she cannot live an absolutely independent life with such a husband--and +Bjoernson's gospel is, of course, the untrammelled freedom of woman. So, +although she is about to become a mother, she deliberately cancels the +engagement to the putative child's father; this puzzles him even more +than her previous conduct, though he is forced to acquiesce. Then, in a +final access of despair, as she is about to commit suicide, she is +rescued by a man whose love is like the moth's for the star--who tells +her that no matter what she has done, she is the noblest, purest woman +on earth, and the chaste queen of his heart. Thus, by a stroke of good +fortune, rather than by anything inevitable in the story, the book ends +happily, with Mary and her second adoring lover in the very delirium of +joy. It is evident that the novel is nothing but a _Tendenz-Roman_; +Bjoernson wishes us to approve of his heroine's conduct throughout--of +the entirely unnecessary sacrifice of her virtue, of the subsequent +sacrifice of her reputation, and of her remorseless joy in the arms of +another man. Such is to be the doctrine of sex equality; men are not to +be made more virtuous, but the freedom of women is not only to be +pardoned, but approved. + +In comparing the three late with the four early novels, the most +striking change is instantly apparent to anyone who reads _Synnoeve +Solbakken_ and then opens _In God's Way_. It is the sudden and +depressing change of air, from the mountains to the sick-room. The +abundance of medical detail in the later novel is almost nauseating, and +would be wholly so were it not absurd. One has only to compare the +invigorating scenery and the simple love scenes in _Synnoeve_ with the +minute examination of Ragni's spittle (for tuberculosis) in the other +book--but enough is said. Despite all that has been written in praise of +Bjoernson's "courage" in dealing with problems of sex and disease, I +sympathise with the cry of his friend in 1879:-- + + "Come back again, dear Bjoernson, come back!" + +It is easy to see that the influence of modern English scepticism cannot +account entirely for the revolution in the Norwegian's mind and art. We +can clearly observe an attraction much nearer, that has drawn this +luminous star so far out of its course. It is none other than the mighty +Ibsen. Ibsen's analysis of disease, his examination of marriage +problems, his Ishmaelite attacks on the present structure of civilised +society--all this has had its effect on his contemporary and countryman. +As a destructive force Ibsen was stronger than Bjoernson, because he was +ruthless. But one had the courage of despair, while the other has the +courage of hope. Bjoernson does not believe in Fate and is not afraid of +it. He loves and believes in humanity. His gloomiest books end with a +vision. There is always a rift in the clouds. Throughout all his career +he has set his face steadfastly toward what he has taken to be the true +light. Such men compel admiration, no matter whose colours they bear. +And however much we may deplore his present course, we cannot now echo +the cry of his friend and say, "Come back!" The language of the poet +better expresses our attitude:-- + + "Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! + There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain, + Forced praise on our part--the glimmer of twilight, + Never glad confident morning again! + Best fight on well, for we taught him--strike gallantly, + Menace our heart ere we master his own; + Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, + Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!" + + + + +V + +MARK TWAIN + + +During the last twenty years, a profound change has taken place in the +attitude of the reading public toward Mark Twain. I can remember very +well when he was regarded merely as a humorist, and one opened his books +with an anticipatory grin. Very few supposed that he belonged to +literature; and a complete, uniform edition of his _Works_ would perhaps +have been received with something of the mockery that greeted Ben +Jonson's folio in 1616. Professor Richardson's _American Literature_, +which is still a standard work, appeared originally in 1886. My copy, +which bears the date 1892, contains only two references in the index to +Mark Twain, while Mr. Cable, for example, receives ten; and the whole +volume fills exactly nine hundred and ninety pages. Looking up one of +the two references, we find the following opinion:-- + + "But there is a class of writers, authors ranking below Irving or + Lowell, and lacking the higher artistic or moral purpose of the + greater humorists, who amuse a generation and then pass from sight. + Every period demands a new manner of jest, after the current + fashion.... The reigning favourites of the day are Frank R. + Stockton, Joel Chandler Harris, the various newspaper jokers, and + 'Mark Twain.' But the creators of 'Pomona' and 'Rudder Grange,' of + 'Uncle Remus and his Folk-lore Stories,' and 'Innocents Abroad,' + clever as they are, must make hay while the sun shines. Twenty + years hence, unless they chance to enshrine their wit in some + higher literary achievement, their unknown successors will be the + privileged comedians of the republic. Humour alone never gives its + masters a place in literature; it must coexist with literary + qualities, and must usually be joined with such pathos as one finds + in Lamb, Hood, Irving, or Holmes." + +It is interesting to remember that before this pronouncement was +published, _Tom Sawyer_ and _Huckleberry Finn_ had been read by +thousands. Professor Richardson continued: "Two or three divisions of +American humour deserve somewhat more respectful treatment," and he +proceeds to give a full page to Petroleum V. Nasby, another page to +Artemus Ward, and two and one-half pages to Josh Billings, while Mark +Twain had received less than four lines. After stating that, in the case +of authors like Mark Twain, "temporary amusement, not literary product, +is the thing sought and given," Professor Richardson announces that the +department of fiction will be considered later. In this "department," +Mark Twain is not mentioned at all, although Julian Hawthorne receives +over three pages! + +I have quoted Professor Richardson at length, because he is a deservedly +high authority, and well represents an attitude toward Mark Twain that +was common all during the eighties. Another college professor, who is +to-day one of the best living American critics, says, in his _Initial +Studies in American Letters_ (1895), "Though it would be ridiculous to +maintain that either of these writers [Artemus Ward and Mark Twain] +takes rank with Lowell and Holmes, ... still it will not do to ignore +them as mere buffoons, or even to predict that their humours will soon +be forgotten." There is no allusion in his book to _Tom Sawyer_ or +_Huckleberry Finn_, nor does the critic seem to regard their creator as +in any sense a novelist. Still another writer, in a passing allusion to +Mark Twain, says, "Only a very small portion of his writing has any +place as literature." + +Literary opinions change as time progresses; and no one could have +observed the remarkable demonstration at the seventieth birthday of our +great national humorist without feeling that most of his contemporaries +regarded him, not as their peer, but as their Chief. Without wishing to +make any invidious comparisons, I cannot refrain from commenting on the +statement that it would be "ridiculous" to maintain that Mark Twain +takes rank with Oliver Wendell Holmes. It is, of course, absolutely +impossible to predict the future; the only real test of the value of a +book is Time. Who now reads Cowley? Time has laughed at so many +contemporary judgements that it would be foolhardy to make positive +assertions about literary stock quotations one hundred years from now. +Still, guesses are not prohibited; and I think it not unlikely that the +name of Mark Twain will outlast the name of Holmes. American Literature +would surely be the poorer if the great Boston Brahmin had not enlivened +it with his rich humour, his lambent wit, and his sincere pathos; but +the whole content of his work seems slighter than the big American prose +epics of the man of our day. + +Indeed, it seems to me that Mark Twain is our foremost living American +writer. He has not the subtlety of Henry James or the wonderful charm of +Mr. Howells; he could not have written _Daisy Miller_, or _A Modern +Instance_, or _Indian Summer_, or _The Kentons_--books which exhibit +literary quality of an exceedingly high order. I have read them over and +over again, with constantly increasing profit and delight. I wish that +Mr. Howells might live for ever, and give to every generation the pure +intellectual joy that he has given to ours. But the natural endowment of +Mark Twain is still greater. Mr. Howells has made the most of himself; +God has done it all for Mark Twain. If there be a living American writer +touched with true genius, whose books glow with the divine fire, it is +he. He has always been a conscientious artist; but no amount of industry +could ever have produced a _Huckleberry Finn_. + +When I was a child at the West Middle Grammar School of Hartford, on one +memorable April day, Mark Twain addressed the graduating-class. I was +thirteen years old, but I have found it impossible to forget what he +said. The subject of his "remarks" was Methuselah. He informed us that +Methuselah lived to the ripe old age of nine hundred and sixty-nine. But +he might as well have lived to be several thousand--nothing happened. +The speaker told us that we should all live longer than Methuselah. +Fifty years of Europe are better than a cycle of Cathay, and twenty +years of modern American life are longer and richer in content than the +old patriarch's thousand. Ours will be the true age in which to live, +when more will happen in a day than in a year of the flat existence of +our ancestors. I cannot remember his words; but what a fine thing it is +to hear a speech, and carry away an idea! + +I have since observed that this idea runs through much of his literary +work. His philosophy of life underlies his broadest burlesque--for _A +Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court_ is simply an exposure of the +"good old times." Mark Twain believes in the Present, in human progress. +Too often do we apprehend the Middle Ages through the glowing pages of +Spenser and Walter Scott; we see only glittering processions of ladies +dead and lovely knights. Mark Twain shows us the wretched condition of +the common people, their utter ignorance and degradation, the coarseness +and immorality of technical chivalry, the cruel and unscrupulous +ecclesiastical tyranny, and the capricious insolence of the barons. One +may regret that he has reversed the dynamics in so glorious a book as +Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_, but, through all the buffoonery and roaring +mirth with which the knights in armour are buried, the artistic and +moral purpose of the satirist is clear. If I understand him rightly, he +would have us believe that _our_ age, not theirs, is the "good time"; +nay, ours is the age of magic and wonder. We need not regret in +melancholy sentimentality the picturesqueness of bygone days, for we +ourselves live, not in a material and commonplace generation, but in the +very midst of miracles and romance. Merlin and the Fay Morgana would +have given all their petty skill to have been able to use a telephone or +a phonograph, or to see a moving picture. The sleeping princess and her +castle were awakened by a kiss; but in the twentieth century a man in +Washington touches a button, and hundreds of miles away tons of +machinery begin to move, fountains begin to play, and the air resounds +with the whir of wheels. In comparison with to-day, the age of chivalry +seems dull and poor. Even in chivalry itself our author is more knightly +than Lancelot; for was there ever a more truly chivalrous performance +than Mark Twain's essay on Harriet Shelley, or his literary monument to +Joan of Arc? In these earnest pages, our national humorist appears as +the true knight. + +Mark Twain's humour is purely American. It is not the humour of +Washington Irving, which resembles that of Addison and Thackeray; it is +not delicate and indirect. It is genial, sometimes outrageous, +mirth--laughter holding both his sides. I have found it difficult to +read him in a library or on a street-car, for explosions of pent-up +mirth or a distorted face are apt to attract unpleasant attention in +such public places. Mark Twain's humour is boisterous, uproarious, +colossal, overwhelming. As has often been remarked, the Americans are +not naturally a gay people, like the French; nor are we light-hearted +and careless, like the Irish and the Negro. At heart, we are intensely +serious, nervous, melancholy. For humour, therefore, we naturally turn +to buffoonery and burlesque, as a reaction against the strain and +tension of life. Our attitude is something like that of the lonely +author of the _Anatomy of Melancholy_, who used to lean over the +parapet of Magdalen Bridge, and shake with mirth at the obscene jokes of +the bargemen. We like Mark Twain's humour, not because we are frivolous, +but because we are just the reverse. I have never known a frivolous +person who really enjoyed or appreciated Mark Twain. + +The essence of Mark Twain's humour is Incongruity. The jumping frog is +named Daniel Webster; and, indeed, the intense gravity of a frog's face, +with the droop at the corners of the mouth, might well be envied by many +an American Senator. When the shotted frog vainly attempted to leave the +earth, he shrugged his shoulders "like a Frenchman." Bilgewater and the +Dolphin on the raft are grotesquely incongruous figures. The rescuing of +Jim from his prison cell is full of the most incongruous ideas, his +common-sense attitude toward the whole transaction contrasting strangely +with that of the romantic Tom. Along with the constant incongruity goes +the element of surprise--which Professor Beers has well pointed out. +When one begins a sentence, in an apparently serious discussion, one +never knows how it will end. In discussing the peace that accompanies +religious faith, Mark Twain says that he has often been impressed +with the calm confidence of a Christian with four aces. +Exaggeration--deliberate, enormous hyperbole--is another feature. +Rudyard Kipling, who has been profoundly influenced by Mark Twain, and +has learned much from him, often employs the same device, as in +_Brugglesmith_. Irreverence is also a noteworthy quality. In his +travel-books, we are given the attitude of the typical American +Philistine toward the wonders and sacred relics of the Old World, the +whole thing being a gigantic burlesque on the sentimental guide-books +which were so much in vogue before the era of Baedeker. With such +continuous fun and mirth, satire and burlesque, it is no wonder that +Mark Twain should not always be at his best. He is doubtless sometimes +flat, sometimes coarse, as all humorists since Rabelais have been. The +wonder is that his level has been so high. I remember, just before the +appearance of _Following the Equator_, I had been told that Mark Twain's +inspiration was finally gone, and that he could not be funny if he +tried. To test this, I opened the new book, and this is what I found on +the first page:-- + + "We sailed for America, and there made certain preparations. This + took but little time. Two members of my family elected to go with + me. Also a carbuncle. The dictionary says a carbuncle is a kind of + jewel. Humour is out of place in a dictionary." + +Although Mark Twain has the great qualities of the true humorist--common +sense, human sympathy, and an accurate eye for proportion--he is much +more than a humorist. His work shows high literary quality, the quality +that appears in first-rate novels. He has shown himself to be a genuine +artist. He has done something which many popular novelists have signally +failed to accomplish--he has created real characters. His two wonderful +boys, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, are wonderful in quite different +ways. The creator of Tom exhibited remarkable observation; the creator +of Huck showed the divine touch of imagination. Tom is the American +boy--he is "smart." In having his fence whitewashed, in controlling a +pool of Sabbath-school tickets at the precise psychological moment, he +displays abundant promise of future success in business. Huck, on the +other hand, is the child of nature, harmless, sincere, and crudely +imaginative. His reasonings with Jim about nature and God belong to the +same department of natural theology as that illustrated in Browning's +_Caliban_. The night on the raft with Jim, when these two creatures look +aloft at the stars, and Jim reckons the moon _laid_ them, is a case in +point. + + "We had the sky up there, all speckled with stars, and we used to + lay on our backs and look up at them, and discuss about whether + they was made or just happened. Jim he allowed they was made, but I + allowed they happened; I judged it would have took too long to + _make_ so many. Jim said the moon could a _laid_ them; well, that + looked kind of reasonable, so I didn't say nothing against it, + because I've seen a frog lay most as many, so of course it could be + done. We used to watch the stars that fell, too, and see them + streak down. Jim allowed they'd got spoiled and was hove out of the + nest." + +Again, Mark Twain has so much dramatic power that, were his literary +career beginning instead of closing, he might write for us the great +American play that we are still awaiting. The story of the feud between +the Grangerfords and the Shepherdsons is thrillingly dramatic, and the +tragic climax seizes the heart. The shooting of the drunken Boggs, the +gathering of the mob, and its control by one masterful personality, +belong essentially to true drama, and are written with power and +insight. The pathos of these scenes is never false, never mawkish or +overdone; it is the pathos of life itself. Mark Twain's extraordinary +skill in descriptive passages shows, not merely keen observation, but +the instinct for the specific word--the one word that is always better +than any of its synonyms, for it makes the picture real--it creates the +illusion, which is the essence of all literary art. The storm, for +example:-- + + "It was my watch below till twelve, but I wouldn't a turned in + anyway if I'd had a bed, because a body don't see such a storm as + that every day in the week, not by a long sight. My souls, how the + wind did scream along! And every second or two there'd come a glare + that lit up the white-caps for a half a mile around, and you'd see + the islands looking dusty through the rain, and the trees thrashing + around in the wind; then comes a _h-wach_!--bum! bum! + bumble-umble-umbum-bum-bum-bum--and the thunder would go rumbling + and grumbling away, and quit--and then _rip_ comes another flash + and another sockdolager. The waves 'most washed me off the raft + sometimes, but I hadn't any clothes on, and didn't mind. We didn't + have no trouble about snags; the lightning was glaring and + flittering around so constant that we could see them plenty soon + enough to throw her head this way or that and miss them." + +_Tom Sawyer_ and _Huckleberry Finn_ are prose epics of American life. +The former is one of those books--of which _The Pilgrim's Progress_, +_Gulliver's Travels_, and _Robinson Crusoe_ are supreme examples--that +are read at different periods of one's life from very different points +of view; so that it is not easy to say when one enjoys them the +most--before one understands their real significance or after. Nearly +all healthy boys enjoy reading _Tom Sawyer_, because the intrinsic +interest of the story is so great, and the various adventures of the +hero are portrayed with such gusto. Yet it is impossible to outgrow the +book. The eternal Boy is there, and one cannot appreciate the nature of +boyhood properly until one has ceased to be a boy. The other +masterpiece, _Huckleberry Finn_, is really not a child's book at all. +Children devour it, but they do not digest it. It is a permanent picture +of a certain period of American history, and this picture is made +complete, not so much by the striking portraits of individuals placed on +the huge canvas, as by the vital unity of the whole composition. If one +wishes to know what life on the Mississippi really was, to know and +understand the peculiar social conditions of that highly exciting time, +one has merely to read through this powerful narrative, and a definite, +coherent, vivid impression remains. + +By those who have lived there, and whose minds are comparatively free +from prejudice, Mark Twain's pictures of life in the South before the +war are regarded as, on the whole, nearer the truth than those supplied +by any other artist. One reason for this is the aim of the author; he +was not trying to support or to defend any particular theory--no, his +aim was purely and wholly artistic. In _Uncle Tom's Cabin_, a book by no +means devoid of literary art, the red-hot indignation of the author +largely nullified her evident desire to tell the truth. If one succeeds +in telling the truth about anything whatever, one must have something +more than the _desire_ to tell the truth; one must know how to do it. +False impressions do not always, probably do not commonly, come from +deliberate liars. Mrs. Stowe's astonishing work is not really the +history of slavery; it is the history of abolition sentiment. On the +other hand, writers so graceful, talented, and clever as Mr. Page and +Mr. Hopkinson Smith do not always give us pictures that correctly +represent, except locally, the actual situation before the war; for +these gentlemen seem to have _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ in mind. Mark Twain +gives us both points of view; he shows us the beautiful side of +slavery,--for it had a wonderfully beautiful, patriarchal side,--and he +also shows us the horror of it. The living dread of the Negro that he +would be sold down the river, has never been more vividly represented +than when the poor woman in _Pudd'nhead Wilson_ sees the water swirling +against the snag, and realises that she is bound the wrong way. That one +scene makes an indelible impression on the reader's mind, and +counteracts tons of polemics. The peculiar harmlessness of Jim is +beautiful to contemplate. Although he and Huck really own the raft, and +have taken all the risk, they obey implicitly the orders of the two +tramps who call themselves Duke and King. Had that been a raft on the +Connecticut River, and had Huck and Jim been Yankees, they would have +said to the intruders, "Whose raft is this, anyway?" + +Mark Twain may be trusted to tell the truth; for the eye of the born +caricature artist always sees the salient point. Caricatures often give +us a better idea of their object than a photograph; for the things that +are exaggerated, be it a large nose, or a long neck, are, after all, +the things that differentiate this particular individual from the mass. +Everybody remembers how Tweed was caught by one of Nast's cartoons. + +Mark Twain is through and through American. If foreigners really wish to +know the American spirit, let them read Mark Twain. He is far more +American than their favourite specimen, Walt Whitman. The essentially +American qualities of common sense, energy, enterprise, good-humour, and +Philistinism fairly shriek from his pages. He reveals us in our +limitations, in our lack of appreciation of certain beautiful things, +fully as well as he pictures us in coarser but more triumphant aspects. +It is, of course, preposterous to say that Americans are totally +different from other humans; we have no monopoly of common sense and +good-humour, nor are we all hide-bound Philistines. But there is +something pronounced in the American character, and the books of Mark +Twain reveal it. He has also more than once been a valuable and +efficient champion. Without being an offensive and blatant Jingo, I +think he is content to be an American. + +Mark Twain is our great Democrat. Democracy is his political, social, +and moral creed. His hatred of snobbery, affectation, and assumed +superiority is total. His democracy has no limits; it is bottom-less and +far-reaching. Nothing seems really sacred to him except the sacred +right of every individual to do exactly as he pleases; which means, of +course, that no one can interfere with another's right, for then +democracy would be the privilege of a few, and would stultify itself. +Not only does the spirit of democracy breathe out from all his greater +books, but it is shown in specific instances, such as _Travelling with a +Reformer_; and Mark Twain has more than once given testimony for his +creed, without recourse to the pen. + +At the head of all American novelists, living and dead, stands Nathaniel +Hawthorne, unapproached, possibly unapproachable. His fine and subtle +art is an altogether different thing from the art of our mighty, +democratic, national humorist. But Literature is wonderfully diverse in +its content; and the historian of American Letters, in the far future, +will probably find it impossible to omit the name of Mark Twain. + + + + +VI + +HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + + +In a private letter to a friend, written in 1896, the late Mr. Charles +Dudley Warner remarked: "I am just reading _Children of the Soil_, which +I got in London before I sailed. It confirms me in my very high opinion +of him. I said the other day that I think him at the head of living +novelists, both in range, grasp of a historical situation, intuition and +knowledge of human nature. Comparisons are always dangerous, but I know +no historical novelist who is his superior, or who is more successful in +creating characters. His canvas is very large, and in the beginning of +his historical romances the reader needs patience, but the picture +finally comes out vividly, and the episodes in the grand story are +perfectly enthralling. Of his novels of modern life I cannot speak too +highly. The subtlety of his analysis is wonderful, and the shades of +character are delineated by slight but always telling strokes. There is +the same reality in them that is in his romances. As to the secret of +his power, who can say? It is genius (I still believe in that word) but +re-enforced by very hard labour and study, by much reading, and by acute +observation." + +This letter may serve as an excellent summary of the opinions of many +intelligent American critics concerning a writer whose name was unknown +to us in 1890, and of whom the whole world was talking in 1895.[5] One +reason--apart from their intrinsic excellence--for the Byronic +suddenness of the fame of the Polish Trilogy, was the psychological +opportuneness of its appearance. In England and in America the recent +Romantic Revival was at its flood; we were all reading historical +romances, and were hungry for more. Sienkiewicz satisfied us by +providing exactly what we were looking for. In his own country he was +idolised, for his single pen had done more than many years of tumultuous +discussion, to put Poland back on the map of Europe. At the exercises +commemorating the five hundredth anniversary of the University of +Cracow, the late President Gilman, who had the well-deserved honour of +speaking for the universities of America, said: "America thanks Poland +for three great names: Copernicus, to whom all the world is indebted; +Kosciuszko, who spilled his blood for American independence; and +Sienkiewicz, whose name is a household word in thousands of American +homes, and who has introduced Poland to the American people."[6] + +[5] His name does not appear in standard English biographical +dictionaries or literary reference books for 1893 or 1894. + +[6] See an interesting article in the _Outlook_ for 3 August, 1901, _A +Visit to Sienkiewicz_, by L. E. Van Norman. + +Sienkiewicz was born in 1845. After student days at Warsaw, he came over +in 1876-1877 to California, in a party that included Madame Modjeska. +They attempted to establish a kind of socialistic community, which bears +in the retrospect a certain resemblance to Brook Farm. Fortunately for +the cause of art, which the world needs more than it does socialism, the +enterprise was a failure. Sienkiewicz returned to Poland, and began his +literary career; Madame Modjeska became one of the chief ornaments of +the English stage for a quarter of a century. Her ashes now rest in the +ancient Polish city where President Gilman uttered his fine tribute to +the friend of her youth. + +The three great Polish romances were all written in the eighties; and at +about the same time the author was also engaged in the composition of +purely realistic work, which displays his powers in a quite different +form of art, and constitutes the most original--though not the most +popular--part of his literary production. The _Children of the Soil_, +which some of the elect in Poland consider his masterpiece, is a novel, +constructed and executed in the strictest style of realism; _Without +Dogma_ is still farther removed from the Romantic manner, for it is a +story of psychological analytical introspection. Sienkiewicz himself +regards _Children of the Soil_ as his favourite, although he is "not +prepared to say just why." And _Without Dogma_ he thinks to be "in many +respects my strongest work." It is evident that he does not consider +himself primarily a maker of stirring historical romance. But in the +nineties he returned to this form of fiction, producing his Roman +panorama called _Quo Vadis_, which, although it has made the biggest +noise of all his books, is perhaps the least valuable. Like _Ben Hur_, +it was warmed over into a tremendously successful melodrama, and +received the final compliment of parody.[7] Toward the close of the +century, Sienkiewicz completed another massive historical romance, _The +Knights of the Cross_, which, in its abundant action, striking +characterisation, and charming humour, recalled the Trilogy; this was +followed by _On the Field of Glory_, and we may confidently expect more, +though never too much; he simply could not be dull if he tried. + +[7] One of the most grotesque and laughable burlesques ever seen on the +American stage was the travesty of _Quo Vadis_, with the heroine Lithia, +who drew a lobster on the sand: the strong man, Zero, wrenched the neck +off a wild borax. + +In a time like ours, when literary tabloids take the place of wholesome +mental food, when many successful novels can be read at a sitting or a +lying--requiring no exertion either of soul or body--the portentous size +of these Polish stories is a magnificent challenge. If some books are to +be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and +digested, what shall we do with Sienkiewicz? In Mr. Curtin's admirable +translation, the Trilogy covers over twenty-five hundred closely printed +pages; the _Knights of the Cross_ over seven hundred and fifty, +_Children of the Soil_ over six hundred and fifty; _Without Dogma_ +(Englished by another hand) has been silently so much abridged in +translation that we do not know what its actual length may be. We do not +rebel, because the next chapter is invariably not a task, but a +temptation; but when we wake up with a start at the call _Finis_, which +magic word transfers us from the seventeenth to the twentieth century, +and contemplate the vast fabric of our dream, we cannot help asking if +there is any law in the construction that requires so much material. +Gogol, in his astonishing romance, _Taras Bulba_, which every lover of +Sienkiewicz should read, gives us the same impression of Vastness, in a +book Lilliputian in size. Nor is there any apparent reason why the +Polish narratives should stop on the last page, nor indeed stop at all. +Combat succeeds combat, when in the midst of the hurly-burly, the Master +of the Show calls time. It is his arbitrary will, rather than any +inevitable succession of events, that shuts off the scene: the men might +be fighting yet. This passion for mere detail mars the first part of +_With Fire and Sword_; one cannot see the forest for the trees. + +One reason for this immensity is the author's desire to be historically +accurate, the besetting sin of many recent dramas and novels. Before +beginning to write, Sienkiewicz reads all the authorities and +documentary evidence he can find. The result is plainly seen in the +early pages of _With Fire and Sword_, which read far more like a history +than like a work of fiction--note the striking contrast in _Pan +Michael_! The _Knights of the Cross_ appeared with maps. The topography +of _Quo Vadis_ was so carefully prepared that it almost serves as a +guide-book to ancient Rome. Now the relation of History to Fiction has +never been better stated than by Lessing: "The dramatist uses history, +not because it has happened, but because it has so happened that he +could scarcely find anything else better adapted to his purpose." No +work of fiction has ever gained immortality by its historical accuracy. + +Everyone notices that the works of Sienkiewicz are Epics rather than +Novels. Even bearing Fielding clearly in mind, there is no better +illustration to be found in literary history. The Trilogy bears the same +relation to the wars of Poland that the Iliad bears to the struggle at +Troy. The scope and flow of the narrative, the power of the scenes, the +vast perspective, the portraits of individual heroes, the impassioned +poetry of the style--all these qualities are of the Epic. The intense +patriotism is thrilling, and makes one envy the sensations of native +readers. And yet the reasons for the downfall of Poland are made +perfectly clear. + +Is the _romanticist_ Sienkiewicz an original writer? In the narrow and +strict sense of the word, I think not. He is eclectic rather than +original. He is a skilful fuser of material, like Shakespeare. At any +rate, his most conspicuous virtue is not originality. He has enormous +force, a glorious imagination, astonishing facility, and a remarkable +power of making pictures, both in panorama and in miniature; but his +work shows constantly the inspiration not only of his historical +authorities, but of previous poets and novelists. Those who are really +familiar with the writings of Homer, Shakespeare, Scott, and Dumas, will +not require further comment on this point. The influence of Homer is +seen in the constant similes, the epithets like "incomparable bowman," +and the stress laid on the deeds of individual heroes; a thing quite +natural in Homeric warfare, but rather disquieting in the days of +villainous saltpetre. The three swordsmen in _With Fire and Sword_--Pan +Yan, Pan Podbienta, and Pan Michael--infallibly remind us of Dumas's +three guardsmen; and the great duel scenes in the same story, and in the +_Knights of the Cross_, are quite in the manner of the Frenchman. Would +that other writers could employ their reminiscences to such advantage! +In the high colouring, in the management of historical events, and in +patriotic enthusiasm, we cannot help thinking of Scott. But be the debt +to Dumas and to Scott as great as one pleases to estimate, I am free to +acknowledge that I find the romances of the Pole more enthralling than +those of either or both of his two great predecessors. + +With reference to the much-discussed character of Zagloba, I confess I +cannot join in the common verdict that pronounces him a "new creation in +literature." Those who believe this delightful person to be something +new and original have simply forgotten Falstaff. If one will begin all +over again, and read the two parts of _Henry IV_, and then take a look +at Zagloba, the author of his being is immediately apparent. Zagloba is +a Polish Falstaff, an astonishingly clever imitation of the real thing. +He is old, white-haired, fat, a resourceful wit and humorist, better at +bottles than at battles, and yet bold when policy requires: in every +essential feature of body and mind he resembles the immortal creation of +Shakespeare. Sienkiewicz _develops_ him with subtle skill and +affectionate solicitude, even as Dickens developed Mr. Pickwick; the +Zagloba of _Pan Michael_ is far sweeter and more mellow than when we +make his acquaintance in the first volume of the Trilogy; but the last +word for this character is the word "original." The real triumph of +Sienkiewicz in the portrayal of the jester is in the fact that he could +imitate Falstaff without spoiling him, for no other living writer could +have done it. A copy that can safely be placed alongside the original +implies art of a very high class. To see Zagloba is to realise the truth +of Falstaff's remark, "I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that +wit is in other men." + +Sienkiewicz himself perhaps does not appreciate how much he owes to +Shakespeare, or possibly he is a bit sensitive on the subject, for he +explains, "If I may be permitted to make a comparison, I think that +Zagloba is a better character than Falstaff. At heart the old noble was +a good fellow. He would fight bravely when it became necessary, whereas +Shakespeare makes Falstaff a coward and a poltroon."[8] If the last two +epithets were really an accurate description of Falstaff, he would never +have conquered so many millions of readers.[9] + +[8] See Mr. Van Norman's article. + +[9] It would be well for Sienkiewicz (and others) to read the brilliant +essay that appeared, "by another hand," in the First Series of Mr. +Birrell's _Obiter Dicta_. + +In power of description on a large scale, Sienkiewicz seems to take a +place among the world's great masters of fiction. The bigger the canvas, +the more impressive he becomes. His pictures of the boundless steppes by +day and night, and in the varying seasons of the year, leave permanent +images in the mind. Especially in huge battle scenes is his genius +resplendent. It is as if we viewed the whole drama of blood from a +convenient mountain peak. The awful tumult gathers and breaks like some +hideous storm. So far as I know no writer has ever excelled this +Verestchagin of the pen except Tolstoi--and Tolstoi's power lies more in +the subjective side of the horrors of war. The Russian's skill is more +intellectual, more psychological, of a really higher order of art. For +in the endeavour to make the picture vivid, Sienkiewicz becomes at times +merely sensational. There is no excuse for his frequent descent into +loathsome and horrible detail. The employment of human entrails as a +necklace may be historically accurate, but it is out of place in a work +of art. The minute description of the use of the stake is another +instance of the same tendency, and the unspeakably horrid torture of +Azya in _Pan Michael_ is a sad blot on an otherwise splendid romance. +The love of the physically horrible is an unfortunate characteristic of +our Polish novelist, for it appears in _Quo Vadis_ as well as in the +Trilogy. The greatest works appeal to the mind rather than the senses. +_Pan Michael_ is a great book, not because it reeks with blood and +abounds in hell's ingenuity of pain, but because it presents the +character of a hero made perfect through suffering; every sword-stroke +develops his spirit as well as his arm. Superfluous events, so frequent +in the other works, are here omitted; the story progresses steadily; it +is the most condensed and the most human book in the Trilogy. Again, in +_The Deluge_, the author's highest skill is shown not in the portrayal +of moving accidents by flood and field, but in the regeneration of +Kmita. He passes through a long period of slow moral gestation, which +ultimately brings him from darkness to light. + +To non-Slavonic readers, who became acquainted with Sienkiewicz through +the Trilogy, it was a surprise to discover that at home he was equally +distinguished as an exponent of modern realism. The acute demand for +anything and everything from his pen led to the translation of _The +Family of Polanyetski_, rechristened in English (one hardly knows why) +_Children of the Soil_; this was preceded by the curious psychological +study, _Without Dogma_. It is extremely fortunate that these two works +have been made accessible to English readers, for they display powers +that would not otherwise be suspected. It is true that English novelists +have shone in both realism and romance: we need remember only Defoe, +Dickens, and Thackeray. But at the very moment when we were all thinking +of Sienkiewicz as a reincarnation of Scott or Dumas, we were compelled +to revise previous estimates of his position and abilities. Genius +always refuses to be classified, ticketed, or inventoried; just as you +have got your man "placed," or, to change the figure, have solemnly and +definitely ushered him to a seat in the second row on the upper tier, +you discover that he is much bigger than or quite different from your +definition of him. Sienkiewicz is undoubtedly one of the greatest living +masters of the realistic novel. In the two stories just mentioned above, +the most minute trivialities in human intercourse are set forth in a +style that never becomes trivial. He is as good at external description +as he is at psychological analysis. He takes all human nature for his +province. He belongs not only to the "feel" school of novelists, with +Zola, but to the "thought" school, with Turgenev. The workings of the +human mind, as impelled by all sorts of motives, ambitions, and +passions, make the subject for his examination. In the Trilogy, he took +an enormous canvas, and splashed on myriads of figures; in _Without +Dogma_, he puts the soul of one man under the microscope. The events in +this man's life are mainly "transitions from one state of spiritual +experience to another." Naturally the mirror selected is a diary, for +_Without Dogma_ belongs to a school of literature illustrated by such +examples as the _Sorrows of Werther_ and _Amiel's Journal_. It must be +remembered that we have here a study primarily of the Slav character. +The hero cleverly diagnoses his own symptoms as _Slave Improductivite_. +He is perhaps puzzling to the practical Philistine Anglo-Saxon: but not +if one has read Turgenev, Dostoievsky, or Gorky. Turgenev's brilliant +analysis of Rudin must stand for all time as a perfect portrait of the +educated Slav, a person who fulfils the witty definition of a Mugwump, +"one who is educated beyond his capacity." We have a similar character +here, the conventional conception of Hamlet, a man whose power of +reasoning overbalances his strength of will. He can talk brilliantly on +all kinds of intellectual topics, but he cannot bring things to pass. He +has a bad case of _slave improductivite_. The very title, _Without +Dogma_, reveals the lack of conviction that ultimately destroys the +hero. He has absolutely no driving power; as he expresses it, _he does +not know_. If one wishes to examine this sort of mind, extremely common +among the upper classes of Poles and Russians, one cannot do better than +read attentively this book. Every futile impulse, every vain longing, +every idle day-dream, is clearly reflected. It is a melancholy +spectacle, but fascinating and highly instructive. For it is not merely +an individual, but the national Slavonic character that is revealed. + +Sienkiewicz is not only a Romanticist and a Realist--he is also a +Moralist. The foundations of his art are set deep in the bed-rock of +moral ideas. As Tolstoi would say, he has the right attitude toward his +characters. He believes that the Novel should strengthen life, not +undermine it; ennoble, not defile it; for it is good tidings, not evil. +"I care not whether the word that I say pleases or not, since I believe +that I reflect the great urgent need of the soul of humanity, which is +crying for a change. People must think according to the laws of logic. +And because they must also live, they want some consolation on the road +of life. Masters after the manner of Zola give them only dissolution, +chaos, a disgust for life, and despair."[10] This is the signal of a +strong and healthy soul. The fact is, that at heart Sienkiewicz is as +stout a moralist as Tolstoi, and with equal ardour recognises +Christianity as the world's best standard and greatest need. The basis +of the novel _Children of the Soil_ is purely Christian. The +simple-hearted Marynia is married to a man far superior to her in mental +endowment and training, as so often happens in Slavonic fiction; she +cannot follow his intellectual flights, and does not even understand the +processes of his mind. She has no talent for metaphysical discussion, +and no knowledge of modern science. But although her education does not +compare with that of her husband, she has, without suspecting it, +completely mastered the art of life; for she is a devout and sincere +Christian, meek and lowly in heart. He finally recognises that while he +has more learning, she has more wisdom; and when the book closes, we see +him a pupil at her feet. All his vain speculations are overthrown by the +power of religion manifested in the purity, peace, and contentment of +his wife's daily life. And now he too-- + + "Leads it companioned by the woman there. + To live, and see her learn, and learn by her, + Out of the low obscure and petty world.... + To have to do with nothing but the true, + The good, the eternal--and these, not alone, + In the main current of the general life, + But small experiences of every day, + Concerns of the particular hearth and home: + To learn not only by a comet's rush + But a rose's birth,--not by the grandeur, God-- + But the comfort, Christ." + +This idea is revealed positively in _Children of the Soil_, and +negatively in _Without Dogma_. The two women, Marynia and Aniela, are +very similar. Aniela's intellect is elementary compared with that of her +brilliant lover, Leon Ploszowski. But her Christian faith turns out to +be a much better guide to conduct than his flux of metaphysics. She is a +good woman, and knows the difference between right and wrong without +having to look it up in a book. When he urges her to a _liaison_, and +overwhelms her objections with a fine display of modern dialectic, she +concludes the debate by saying, "I cannot argue with you, because you +are so much cleverer than I; but I know that what you want me to do is +wrong, and I will not do it." + +[10] Taken here and there from his essay on Zola. + +We find exactly the same emphasis when we turn to the historical romance +_Quo Vadis_. The whole story is a glorification of Christianity, of +Christian ethics and Christian belief. The despised Christians have +discovered the secret of life, which the culture of Petronius sought in +vain. It was hidden from the wise and prudent, and revealed unto babes. +The influence of Lygia on Vinicius is, with a totally different +environment, precisely the same as the influence of Marynia on Pan +Stanislav. + +Sienkiewicz seems to have much the same Christian conception of Love as +that shown in so many ways by Browning. Love is the _summum bonum_, and +every manifestation of it has something divine. Love in all its forms +appears in these Polish novels, as it does in Browning, from the basest +sensual desire to the purest self-sacrifice. There is indeed a streak of +animalism in Sienkiewicz, which shows in all his works; but, if we may +believe him, it is merely one representation of the great passion, which +so largely controls life and conduct. Love, says Sienkiewicz, with +perhaps more force than clearness, should be the foundation of all +literature. "L'amour--c'est un droit eternel, une force vitale, c'est le +genie--bienfaiteur de notre globe: l'harmonie. Sienkiewicz croit que +l'amour, ainsi compris, est le fondement de la litterature polonaise--et +que cet amour devrait l'etre pour toute la litterature."[11] Some light +may be thrown on this statement by a careful reading of _Pan Michael_. + +[11] Sent to me by Dr. Glabisz. + +Sienkiewicz is indeed a mighty man--someone has ironically called him a +literary blacksmith. There is nothing decadent in his nature. Compared +with many English, German, and French writers, who seem at times to +express an anaemic and played-out civilisation, he has the very +exuberance of power and an endless wealth of material. It is as if the +world were fresh and new. And he has not only delighted us with the +pageantry of chivalry, and with the depiction of our complex modern +civilisation, he has for us also the stimulating influence of a great +moral force. + + + + +VII + +HERMANN SUDERMANN + + +Walking along Michigan Avenue in Chicago one fine day, I stopped in +front of the recently completed hall devoted to music. On the facade of +this building had been placed five names, supposed to represent the five +greatest composers that the world has thus far seen. It was worth while +to pause a moment and to reflect that those five men were all Germans. +Germany's contribution to music is not only greater than that of any +other nation, it is probably greater than that of all the other +countries of the earth put together, and multiplied several times. In +many forms of literary art,--especially perhaps in drama and in lyrical +poetry,--Germany has been eminent; and she has produced the greatest +literary genius since Shakespeare. To-day the Fatherland remains the +intellectual workshop of the world; men and women flock thither to study +subjects as varied as Theology, Chemistry, Mathematics, and Music. All +this splendid achievement in science and in culture makes poverty in the +field of prose fiction all the more remarkable. For the fact is, that +the total number of truly great world-novels written in the German +language, throughout its entire history, can be counted on the fingers +of one hand. + +In the making of fiction, from the point of view solely of quality, +Germany cannot stand an instant's comparison with Russia, whose four +great novelists have immensely enriched the world; nor with Great +Britain, where masterpieces have been produced for nearly two hundred +years; nor with France, where the names of notable novels crowd into the +memory; and even America, so poor in literature and in genuine culture, +can show at least one romance that stands higher than anything which has +come from beyond the Rhine. Germany has no reason to feel ashamed of her +barrenness in fiction, so pre-eminent is she in many other and perhaps +nobler forms of art. But it is interesting to enquire for a moment into +possible causes of this phenomenon, and to see if we can discover why +Teutonic fiction is, relatively speaking, so bad. + +One dominant fault in most German novels is a lack of true proportion. +The principle of selection, which differentiates a painting from a +photograph, and makes the artist an Interpreter instead of a Recorder, +has been forgotten or overlooked. The high and holy virtue of Omission +should be cultivated more sedulously. The art of leaving out is the art +that produces the real illusion--where, by the omission of unessential +details, things that are salient can be properly emphasised. And what +German novels lack is emphasis. This cannot be obtained by merely +spacing the letters in descriptions and in conversations; it can be +reached only by remembering that prose fiction is as truly an art form +as a Sonata. Instead of novels, the weary reader gets long and tiresome +biographies of rather unimportant persons; people whom we should not in +the least care to know in real life. We follow them dejectedly from the +cradle to the grave. Matters of no earthly consequence either to the +reader, to the hero, or to the course of the plot, are given as much +prominence as great events. In _Joern Uhl_, to take a recent +illustration, the novel is positively choked by trivial detail. Despite +the enormous vogue of this story, it does not seem destined to live. It +will fall by its own weight. + +Another great fault is an excess of sentimentality. For the Germans, who +delight in destroying old faiths of humanity, and who remorselessly +hammer away at the shrines where we worship in history and religion, +are, notwithstanding their iconoclasm, the most sentimental people in +the world. Many second-and third-rate German novels are ruined for an +Anglo-Saxon reader by a lush streak of sentimental gush, a curious +blemish in so intellectual and sceptical a race. This excess of soft +material appears in a variety of forms; but to take one common +manifestation of it, I should say that the one single object that has +done more than anything else to weaken and to destroy German fiction, is +the Moon. The Germans are, by nature and by training, scientific; and +what their novels need is not the examination of literary critics, but +the thoughtful attention of astronomers. The Moon is overworked, and +needs a long rest. An immense number of pages are illumined by its +chaste beams, for this satellite is both active and ubiquitous. It +behaves, it must be confessed, in a dramatic manner, but in a way +hopelessly at variance with its methodical and orderly self. In other +words, the Moon, in German fiction, is not astronomical, but decorative. +I have read some stories where it seems to rise on almost every page, +and is invariably full. When Stevenson came to grief on the Moon in +_Prince Otto_, he declared that the next time he wrote a novel, he +should use an almanac. He unwittingly laid his finger on a weak spot in +German fiction. The almanac is, after all, what is most sorely needed. +Even Herr Sudermann, for whom we entertain the highest respect, places +in _Es War_ a young crescent Moon in the eastern sky! But it is in his +story, _Der Katzensteg_, that the lunar orb plays its heaviest role. It +rises so constantly that after a time the very words "_der Mond_" get +on one's nerves. At the climax, when the lover looks down on the stream, +he there beholds the dead body of his sweetheart. By some scientific +process, "unknown to me and which 'twere well to know," she is floating +on her back in the water, while the Moon illumines her face, leaving the +rest of her remains in darkness. This constitutes a striking picture; +and is also of material assistance to the man in locating the +whereabouts of the girl. He descends, rescues her from the flood, and +digs a grave in which to bury her. The Moon actively and dramatically +takes part in this labour. Finally, he has lowered the corpse into the +bottom of the cavity. The Moon now shines into the grave in such a +manner that the dead woman's face is bright with its rays, whereas the +rest of her body and the walls of the tomb are in obscurity. This +phenomenon naturally makes a powerful impression on the mourner's mind. + +If such things can happen in the works of a writer like Sudermann, one +can easily imagine the reckless behaviour of the Moon in the common run +of German fiction. The Moon, in fact, is in German novels what the +calcium light is in American melodrama. If one "assists" at a +performance of, let us say, _No Wedding Bells for Her_, and can take his +eye a moment from the stage, he may observe up in the back gallery a +person working the calcium light, and directing its powerful beams in +such a fashion that no matter where the heroine moves, they dwell +exclusively on her face, so that we may contemplate her features +convulsed with emotion. Now in _Der Katzensteg_, the patient Moon +follows the heroine about with much the same assiduity, and accuracy of +aim. Possibly Herr Sudermann, since the composition of that work, has +really consulted an almanac; for in _Das hohe Lied_, the Moon is +practically ignored, and never gets a fair start. Toward the end, I felt +sure that it would appear, and finally, when I came to the words, "The +weary disk of the full moon (_matte Vollmondscheibe_) hung somewhere in +the dark sky," I exclaimed, "Art thou there, truepenny?"--but the next +sentence showed that the author was playing fast and loose with his old +friend. "It was the illuminated clock of a railway-station." Can +Sudermann have purposely set a trap for his moon-struck constituency? + +From the astronomical point of view, I have seldom read a novel that +contained so much moonlight as _Der Katzensteg_, and I have never read +one that contained so little as _Das hohe Lied_. Perhaps Sudermann is +now quietly protesting against what he himself may regard as a national +calamity, for it is little less than that. Be this as it may, the lack +of proportion and the excess of sentimentality are two great evils that +have militated against the final success of German fiction. + +Hermann Sudermann was born at a little village in East Prussia, near the +Russian frontier. The natal landscape is dull, depressing, gloomy, and +the skies are low and threatening. The clouds return after the rain. +Dame Care has spread her grey wings over the flat earth, and neither the +scenery nor the quality of the air are such as to inspire hope and +vigour. The boy's parents were desperately poor, and the bitter +struggles with poverty so frequently described in his novels are +reminiscent of early experiences. In the beautiful and affectionate +verses, which constitute the dedication to his father and mother, and +which are placed at the beginning of _Frau Sorge_, these privations of +the Sudermann household are dwelt on with loving tenderness. At the age +of fourteen, the child was forced to leave school, and was apprenticed +to a chemist--something that recalls chapters in the lives of Keats and +of Ibsen. But, like most boys who really long for a good education, +Sudermann obtained it; he continued his studies in private, and later +returned to school at Tilsit. In 1875 he attended the University at +Koenigsberg, and in 1877 migrated to the University of Berlin. His first +impulse was to become a teacher, and he spent several years in a wide +range of studies in philosophy and literature. Then he turned to +journalism, and edited a political weekly. He finally forsook journalism +for literature, and for the last twenty years he has been known in every +part of the intellectual world. + +Like Mr. J. M. Barrie, Signor D'Annunzio, and other contemporaries, +Sudermann has achieved high distinction both as a novelist and as a +dramatist. Indeed, one of the signs of the times is the recruiting of +playwrights from the ranks of trained experts in prose fiction. It may +perhaps be regarded as one more evidence of the approaching supremacy of +the Drama, which many literary prophets have foretold. After he had +published a small collection of "Zwanglose Geschichten," called _Im +Zwielicht_, Sudermann issued his first real novel, _Dame Care_ (_Frau +Sorge_). This was followed by two tales bound together under the heading +_Geschwister_, one of them being the morbidly powerful story, _The Wish_ +(_Der Wunsch_). Soon after came _Der Katzensteg_, translated into +English with the title, _Regina_. Then, after a surprisingly short +interval, came his first play, _Die Ehre_ (1889), which appeared in the +same year as his rival Hauptmann's first drama, _Vor Sonnenaufgang_. +_Die Ehre_ created a tremendous sensation, and Sudermann was excitedly +read and discussed far beyond the limits of his native land. He reached +a wild climax of popularity a few years later with his play _Heimat_ +(English version _Magda_), which has been presented by the greatest +actresses in the world, and is familiar to everybody. With the exception +of the long novel, _Es War_ (English translation, _The Undying Past_), +which appeared in 1894, Sudermann devoted himself exclusively to the +stage for almost twenty years, and most of us believed he had definitely +abandoned novel-writing. From 1889 to 1909, he produced nineteen plays, +nearly every one of them successful. Then last year he astonished +everybody by publishing a novel of over six hundred closely printed +pages, called _Das hohe Lied_, translated into English as _The Song of +Songs_. This has had an enormous success, and for 1908-1909, is the best +selling work of fiction in the large cities of Germany. + +The immense vogue of his early plays had much to do with the wide +circulation of his previously published novels. Despite the now +universally acknowledged excellence of _Frau Sorge_, it attracted, at +the time of its appearance, very little attention. It is going beyond +the facts to say with one German critic that "it dropped stillborn from +the press"; but it did not give the author anything like the fame he +deserved. After the first night of _Die Ehre_, the public became +inquisitive. A search was made for everything the new author had +written, and the two novels _Frau Sorge_, and the very recent +_Katzensteg_, were fairly pounced upon. The small stock on hand was +immediately exhausted, and the presses poured forth edition after +edition. At first _Der Katzensteg_ received the louder tribute of +praise; it was hailed by many otherwise sane critics as the greatest +work of fiction that Germany had ever produced. But after the tumult and +the shouting died, the people recognised the superiority of the former +novel. To-day _Der Katzensteg_ is, comparatively speaking, little read, +and one seldom hears it mentioned. _Frau Sorge_, on the other hand, has +not only attained more editions than any other work, either play or +novel, by its author, but it bears the signs that mark a classic. It is +one of the very few truly great German novels, and it is possible that +this early written story will survive everything that Sudermann has +since produced, which is saying a good deal. It looks like a fixed star. + +Sudermann's four novels, _Frau Sorge_, _Der Katzensteg_, _Es War_, and +_Das hohe Lied_, show a steady progression in Space as well as in Time. +The first is the shortest; the second is larger; the third is a long +book; the fourth is a leviathan. If novelists were heard for their much +speaking, the order of merit in this output would need no comment. But +the first of these is almost as superior in quality as it is inferior in +size. When the author prepared it for the press, he was an absolutely +unknown man. Possibly he put more work on it than went into the other +books, for it apparently bears the marks of careful revision. It is a +great exception to the ordinary run of German novels in its complete +freedom from superfluous and clogging detail. Turgenev used to write his +stories originally at great length, and then reduce them to a small +fraction of their original bulk, before offering them to the public. We +thus receive the quintessence of his thought and of his art. Now _Frau +Sorge_ has apparently been subjected to some such process. Much of the +huge and varied cargo of ideas, reflections, comments, and speculations +carried by the regulation German freight-novel of heavy draught, has +here been jettisoned. Then the craft itself has been completely +remodelled, and the final result is a thing of grace and beauty. + +_Frau Sorge_ is an admirable story in its absolute unity, in its +harmonious development, and in its natural conclusion. I do not know of +any other German novel that has a more attractive outline. It ought to +serve as an example to its author's countrymen. + +It is in a way an anatomy of melancholy. It is written throughout in the +minor key, and the atmosphere of melancholy envelops it with as much +natural charm as though it were a beautiful piece of music. The book is +profoundly sad, without any false sentiment and without any revolting +coarseness. It is as far removed from the silly sentimentality so +common in Teutonic fiction, as it is from the filth of Zola or of Gorky. +The deep melancholy of the story is as natural to it as a cloudy sky. +The characters live and move and have their being in this grey medium, +which fits them like a garment; just as in the early tales of Bjoernson +we feel the strong sunshine and the sharp air. The early environment of +the young author, the depressing landscape of his boyhood days, the +daily fight with grim want in his father's house--all these elements are +faithfully reflected here, and lend their colour to the narrative. And +this surrounding melancholy, though it overshadows the whole book, is +made to serve an artistic purpose. It contrasts favourably with Ibsen's +harsh bitterness, with Gorky's maudlin dreariness, and with the +hysterical outbursts of pessimism from the manikins who try to see life +from the mighty shoulders of Schopenhauer. At the very heart of the work +we find no sentiment of revolt against life, and no cry of despair, but +true tenderness and broad sympathy. It is the clear expression of a +rich, warm nature. + +The story is realistic, with a veil of Romanticism. The various scenes +of the tale seem almost photographically real. The daily life on the +farm, the struggles with the agricultural machine, the peat-bogs, the +childish experiences at school, the brutality of the boys, the graphic +picture of the funeral,--these would not be out of place in a genuine +experimental novel. But we see everything through an imaginative medium, +like the impalpable silver-grey mist on the paintings of Andrea del +Sarto. The way in which the difficult conception of _Frau Sorge_--part +woman, part vague abstraction--is managed, reminds one in its shadowy +nature of Nathaniel Hawthorne. This might have been done clumsily, as in +a crude fairy-tale, but it exhibits the most subtle art. The first +description of Frau Sorge by the mother, the boy's first glimpse of the +supernatural woman, his father's overcoat, the Magdalene in church, the +flutter of Frau Sorge's wings,--all this gives us a realistic story, and +yet takes us into the borderland between the actual and the unknown. +From one point of view we have a plain narrative of fact; from another +an imaginative poem, and at the end we feel that both have been +marvellously blended. + +The simplicity of the style gives the novel a high rank in German prose. +It has that naive quality wherein the Germans so greatly excel writers +in other languages. It is a surprising fact that this tongue, so full of +difficulties for foreigners, and which seems often so confused and +involved, can, in the hands of a master, be made to speak like a little +child. The literary style of _Frau Sorge_ is naive without ever being +trivial or absurd. It is pleasant to observe, by the way, that to some +extent this book is filling the place in American educational programmes +of German that _L'Abbe Constantin_ has for so long a time occupied in +early studies of French. Both novels are masterpieces of simplicity. + +But what we remember the most vividly, years after we have finished this +story, is not its scenic background, nor its unearthly charm, nor the +grace of its style; it is the character and temperament of the boy-hero. +It is the first, and possibly the best, of Sudermann's remarkable +psychological studies. The whole interest is centred in young Paul. He +is not exactly the normal type of growing boy,--compare him with Tom +Sawyer!--but because he is not ordinary, it does not follow that he is +unnatural. To many thoroughly respectable Philistine readers, he may +appear not only abnormal, but impossible; but the book was not intended +for Philistines. I believe that this boy is absolutely true to life, +though I do not recall at this moment any other novel where this +particular kind of youth occupies the centre of the stage. + +For _Frau Sorge_ is a careful study and analysis of _bashfulness_, a +characteristic that causes more exquisite torture to many boys and girls +than is commonly recognised. Many of us, when we laugh at a boy's +bashfulness, are brutal, when we mean to be merely jocular. Paul is +intensely self-conscious. He is not at all like a healthy, practical, +objective child, brought up in a large family, and surrounded by the +noisy progeny of neighbours. His life is perforcedly largely subjective. +He would give anything could he associate with schoolmates with the ease +that makes a popular boy sure of his welcome. His accursed timidity +makes him invariably show his most awkward and unattractive side. He is +not in the least a _Weltkind_. He has none of the coarseness and none of +the clever shirking of work and study so characteristic of the perfectly +normal small boy. He does his duty _without any reservations_, and +without understanding why. The narrative of his mental life is deeply +pathetic. It is impossible to read the book without a lump in the +throat. + +Paul is finally saved from himself by the redeeming power of love. The +little heroine Elsbeth is shadowy,--a merely conventional picture of +hair, complexion, and eyes,--but she is, after all, _das Ewigweibliche_, +and draws Paul upward and onward. She rescues him from the Slough of +Despond. There is no touch of cynicism here. Sudermann shows us the +healing power of a good woman's heart. + +The next novel, _Der Katzensteg_, is more pretentious than _Frau Sorge_, +but not nearly so fine a book. It abounds in dramatic scenes, and glows +with fierce passion. It seems more like a melodrama than a story, and +it is not surprising that its author immediately discovered--perhaps in +the very composition of this romance--his genius for the stage. It is a +historical novel, but the chief interest, as always in Sudermann, is +psychological. The element of Contrast--so essential to true drama, and +which is so strikingly employed in _Die Ehre_, _Sodoms Ende_, _Heimat_, +and _Johannes_--is the mainspring of _Der Katzensteg_. We have here the +irrepressible conflict between the artificial and the natural. The +heroine of the story is a veritable child of nature, with absolutely +elemental passions, as completely removed from civilisation as a wild +beast. She was formerly the mistress of the hero's father, and for a +long time is naturally regarded with loathing by the son. But she +transfers her dog-like fidelity from the dead parent to the morbid scion +of the house. The more cruelly the young man treats her, the deeper +becomes her love for him. Nor does he at first suspect the hold she has +on his heart. He imagines himself to be in love with the pastor's +daughter in the village, who has been brought up like a hothouse plant. +This simpering, affected girl, who has had all the advantages of careful +nurture and education, is throughout the story contrasted with the wild +flower, Regina. The contrast is thorough--mental, moral, physical. The +educated girl has no real mind; she has only accomplishments. Her +morality has nothing to do with the heart; it is a bundle of +conventions. And finally, while Regina has a magnificent, voluptuous +physique, the hero discovers--by the light of the moon--that the lady of +his dreams is too thin! This is unendurable. He rushes away from the +town to the heights where stands his lonely dwelling, cursing himself +for his folly in being so long blind to the wonderful charm and devotion +of the passionate girl who, he feels sure, is waiting for him. He +hastens on the very wings of love, wild with his new-found happiness. +But the very fidelity of the child of nature has caused her death. She +stood out on the bridge--_der Katzensteg_--to warn her lover of his +danger. There she is shot by her drunken father, and the impatient lover +sees her dead body in the stream below. + +Now he has leisure to reflect on what a fool he has been. He sees how +much nobler are natural passions than artificial conventions. Regina had +lived "on the other side of good and evil," knowing and caring nothing +for the standards of society. The entire significance of the novel is +summed up in this paragraph:-- + + "And as he thought and pondered, it seemed to him as if the clouds + which separate the foundations of human being from human + consciousness" (that is, things as they are from our conceptions of + them,--_den Boden des menschlichen Seins vom menschlichen + Bewusstsein_) "were dispersed, and he saw a space deeper than men + commonly see, into the depths of the unconscious. That which men + call Good and Bad, moved restless in the clouds around the surface; + below, in dreaming strength, lay the _Natural_ (_das Natuerliche_). + 'Whom Nature has blessed,' he said to himself, 'him she lets safely + grow in her dark depths and allows him to struggle boldly toward + the light, without the clouds of Wisdom and Error surrounding and + bewildering him.'" + +But there is nothing new or original in this doctrine, however daring it +may be. One can find it all in Nietzsche and in Rousseau. The best thing +about the novel is that it once more illustrates Sudermann's sympathy +for the outcast and the despised. + +An extraordinarily powerful study in morbid psychology is shown in one +of his short stories, called _Der Wunsch_. The tale is told backward. It +begins with the discovery of a horrible suicide, the explanation of +which is furnished to the prostrated lover by the dead woman's +manuscript. A man and his wife, at first happily married, encounter the +dreadful obstacles of poverty and disease; the fatal illness of his wife +plunges the husband into a hard, bitter melancholy. From this he is +partially saved by the appearance of his wife's younger sister on the +scene, who comes to take care of the sick woman. The close companionship +of the two, previously fond of each other, and now united daily by their +care of the invalid, results in love; but both are absolutely loyal to +the suffering wife. They cannot help thinking, however, of the wonderful +happiness that might be theirs, were the man free; nevertheless, they do +everything possible to solace the last hours of the woman for whom they +feel an immense compassion. One night, as the sister watches at the +bedside, and gazes on the face of her sister, she suddenly feels the +uncontrollable and fatal _wish_--"Would that she might die!" She is so +smitten with remorse that after the death of the invalid she commits +suicide. For although her wish had nothing to do with this event, she +nevertheless regards herself as a murderer, and goes to self-execution. +The physician remarks that this psychological _wish_ is not uncommon; +that during his professional services he has often seen it legibly +written on the faces of relatives by the bedside--sometimes actuated by +avarice, sometimes by other forms of personal greed. + +The next regular novel, _Es War_, is the study of a past sin on a man's +character, temperament, and conduct. The hero, Leo, has committed +adultery with the wife of a disagreeable husband, and, being challenged +by the latter to a duel, has killed him. Thus having broken two of the +commandments, he departs for South America, where for four years he +lives a joyous, care-free, savage existence, with murder and sensuality +a regular part of the day's work. It is perhaps a little hard on South +America that Leo could live there in such liberty and return to Germany +unscathed by the arm of the law; but this is essential to the story. He +returns a kind of Superman, rejoicing in his magnificent health and +absolutely determined to repent nothing. He will not allow the past to +obscure his happiness. But unfortunately his friend Ulrich, whom he has +loved since childhood with an affection passing the love of women, has +married the guilty widow, in blissful unconsciousness of his friend's +guilt. And here the story opens. It is a long, depressing, but intensely +interesting tale. At the very close, when it seems that wholesale +tragedy is inevitable, the clouds lift, and Leo, who has found the Past +stronger than he, regains something of the cheerfulness that +characterises his first appearance in the narrative. Nevertheless _es +war_; the Past cannot be lightly tossed aside or forgotten. It comes +near wrecking the lives of every important character in the novel. Yet +the idea at the end seems to be that although sin entails fearful +punishment, and the scars can never be obliterated, it is possible to +triumph over it and find happiness once more. The most beautiful and +impressive thing in _Es War_ is the friendship between the two men--so +different in temperament and so passionately devoted to each other. A +large group of characters is splendidly kept in hand, and each is +individual and clearly drawn. One can never forget the gluttonous, +wine-bibbing Parson, who comes eating and drinking, but who is a terror +to publicans and sinners. + +Last year appeared _Das hohe Lied_, which, although it lacks the morbid +horror of much of Sudermann's work, is the most pessimistic book he has +ever written. The irony of the title is the motive of the whole novel. +Between the covers of this thick volume we find the entire detailed +life-history of a woman. She passes through much debauchery, and we +follow her into many places where we should hesitate to penetrate in +real life. But the steps in her degradation are not put in, as they so +often are in Guy de Maupassant, merely to lend spice to the narrative; +every event has a definite influence on the heroine's character. The +story, although very long, is strikingly similar to that in a recent +successful American play, _The Easiest Way_. Lilly Czepanek is not +naturally base or depraved. The manuscript roll of her father's musical +composition, _Das hohe Lied_, which she carries with her from childhood +until her final submission to circumstances, and which saves her body +from suicide but not her soul from death, is emblematic of the _elan_ +which she has in her heart. With the best intentions in the world, with +noble, romantic sentiments, with a passionate desire to be a rescuing +angel to the men and women whom she meets, she gradually sinks in the +mire, until, at the end, her case is hopeless. She struggles +desperately, but each struggle finds her stock of resistance reduced. +She always ends by taking the easiest way. Like a person in a quicksand, +every effort to escape sinks the body deeper; or, like a drowning man, +the more he raises his hands to heaven, the more speedy is his +destruction. Much of Lilly's degradation is caused by what she believes +to be an elevating altruistic impulse. And when she finally meets the +only man in her whole career who respects her in his heart, who really +means well by her, and whose salvation she can accomplish along with her +own,--one single evening, where she begins with the best of intentions +and with a sincere effort toward a higher plane, results in complete +damnation. Then, like the heroine in _The Easiest Way_, she determines +to commit suicide, and really means to do it. But the same weakness that +has made it hitherto impossible for her to triumph over serious +obstacles, prevents her from taking this last decisive step. As she +hears the splash of her talisman in the cold, dark water, she realises +that she is not the stuff of which heroines are made, either in life or +in death. + + "And as she heard that sound, then she knew instantly that she + would _never_ do it.--No indeed! Lilly Czepanek was _no_ Heroine. + _No_ martyr of her love was Lilly Czepanek. No Isolde, who in the + determination not to be, sees the highest self-assertion. She was + only a poor brittle, crushed, broken thing, who must drag along + through her days as best she can." + +And with this realisation she goes wearily back to a rich lover she had +definitely forsaken, knowing that in saving her life she has now lost it +for ever. + +This is the last page of the story, but unfortunately it does not end +here. Herr Sudermann has chosen to add one paragraph after the word +"_Schluss_." By this we learn that in the spring of the following year +the aforesaid rich lover _marries_ Lilly, and takes her on a bridal trip +to Italy, which all her life had been in her dreams the celestial +country. She is thus saved from the awful fate of the streets, which +during the whole book had loomed threatening in the distance. But this +ending leaves us completely bewildered and depressed. It seems to imply +that, after all, these successive steps in moral decline do not make +much difference, one way or the other; for at the very beginning of her +career she could not possibly have hoped for any better material fate +than this. The reader not only feels cheated; he feels that the moral +element in the story, which through all the scenes of vice has been made +clear, is now laughed at by the author. This is why I call the book the +most pessimistic of all Sudermann's writings. A novel may take us +through woe and sin, and yet not produce any impression of cynicism; +but one that makes a careful, serious study of subtle moral decay +through over six hundred pages, and then implies at the end that the +distinction between vice and virtue is, after all, a matter of no +consequence, leaves an impression for which the proverbial "bad taste in +the mouth" is utterly inadequate to describe. Some years ago, Professor +Heller, in an admirable book on Modern German Literature, remarked, in a +comparison between Hauptmann and Sudermann, that the former has no +working theory of life, which the latter possessed. That Hauptmann's +dramas offer no solution, merely giving sordid wretchedness; while +Sudermann shows the conquest of environment by character. Or, as Mr. +Heller puts it, there is the contrast between the "driving and the +drifting." I think this distinction in the main will justify itself to +anyone who makes a thoughtful comparison of the work of these two +remarkable men. Despite the depreciation of Sudermann and the idolatry +of Hauptmann, an attitude so fashionable among German critics at +present, I believe that the works of the former have shown a stronger +grasp of life. But the final paragraph of _Das hohe Lied_ is a +staggering blow to those of us who have felt that Sudermann had some +kind of a _Weltanschauung_. It is like Chopin's final movement in his +great Sonata; mocking laughter follows the solemn tones of the Funeral +March. + +Up to this last bad business, _Das hohe Lied_ exhibits that +extraordinary power of psychological analysis that we have come to +expect from Sudermann. Lilly, apart from her personal beauty, is not, +after all, an interesting girl; her mind is thoroughly shallow and +commonplace. Nor are the numerous adventures through which she passes +particularly interesting. And yet the long book is by no means dull, and +one reads it with steady attention. The reason for this becomes clear, +after some reflexion. Not only are we absorbed by the contemplation of +so masterly a piece of mental analysis, but what interests us most is +the constant attempt of Lilly to analyse herself. We often wonder how +people appear to themselves. The unspoken dialogues between Lilly and +her own soul are amazingly well done. She is constantly surprised by +herself, constantly bewildered by the fact that what she thought was one +set of motives, turns out to be quite otherwise. All this comes to a +great climax in the scene late at night when she writes first one +letter, then another--each one meaning to be genuinely confessional. +Each letter is to give an absolutely faithful account of her life, with +a perfectly truthful depiction of her real character. Now the two +letters are so different that in one she appears to be a low-lived +adventuress, and in the other a noble woman, deceived through what is +noblest in her. Finally she tears both up, for she realises that +although each letter gives the facts, neither tells the truth. And then +she sees that the truth cannot be told; that life is far too complex to +be put into language. + +In the attempts of German critics years ago to "classify" Sudermann, he +was commonly placed in one of the three following groups. Many insisted +that he was merely a Decadent, whose pleasure it was to deal in +unhealthy social problems. That his interest in humanity was +pathological. Others held that he was a fierce social Reformer, a kind +of John the Baptist, who wished to reconstruct modern society along +better lines, and who was therefore determined to make society realise +its own rottenness. He was primarily a Satirist, not a Decadent. +Professor Calvin Thomas quoted (without approbation) Professor Litzmann +of Bonn, who said that Sudermann was "a born satirist, not one of the +tame sort who only tickle and scratch, but one of the stamp of Juvenal, +who swings his scourge with fierce satisfaction so that the blood starts +from the soft, voluptuous flesh." A reading of _Das hohe Lied_ will +convince anyone that Sudermann, wherever he is, is not among the +prophets. Finally, there were many critics who at the very start +recognised Sudermann as primarily an artist, who chooses to paint the +aspects of life that interest him. This is undoubtedly the true +viewpoint. We may regret that he prefers to analyse human characters in +morbid and abnormal development, but that, after all, is his affair, and +we do not have to read him unless we wish to. Professor Thomas, in an +admirable article on _Das Glueck im Winkel_, contributed in 1895 to the +New York _Nation_, said, "Sudermann is a man of the world, a +psychologist, and an artist, not a voice crying in the wilderness. The +immortality of Juvenal or Jeremiah would not be to his taste." It is +vain to quarrel with the direction taken by genius; however much we may +deplore its course. Sudermann is one of the greatest, if not the +greatest, of Germany's living writers, and every play or novel from his +pen contains much material for serious thought. + + + + +VIII + +ALFRED OLLIVANT + + +In the month of September, 1898, there appeared in America a novel with +the attractive title, _Bob, Son of Battle_. Unheralded by author's fame +or by the blare of advertisement, it was at first unnoticed; but in +about a twelvemonth everybody was talking about it. It became one of the +"best sellers"; unlike its companions, it has not vanished with the +snows of yesteryear. At this moment it is being read and reread all over +the United States. I do not believe there is a single large town in our +country where the book is unknown, or where a reference to it fails to +bring to the faces of intelligent people that glow of reminiscent +delight aroused by the memory of happy hours passed in the world of +imagination. It seemed so immensely superior to the ordinary run of new +novels, that we gazed with pardonable curiosity at the unfamiliar +signature on the title-page. Who was this writer who knew so much of the +nature of dogs and men? Where had he found that extraordinarily vivid +style, and what experiences had he passed through that gave him his +subtle insight into character? But all that we could then discover was +that Alfred Ollivant was an Englishman, and that _Bob_ was his first +novel. We decided that he must have lived long, observed all kinds of +dogs, and a large variety of men, women, and children; and that for some +reason best known to himself he had chosen to print nothing until he had +descended into the vale of years. For only the other day we were not +surprised to find that _Joseph Vance_ was the winter fruit of a man +nearly seventy; that book at any rate was the expression of a man who +had had life, and had it abundantly. + +Our astonishment was keen indeed when we learned that the author of +_Bob_ was a boy just out of his teens, who had written his wonderful +book in horizontal pain and weakness. He had entered the army, receiving +his commission as a cavalry officer in 1893, at the age of nineteen; a +few weeks after this event, a fall from his horse injured his spine, +previously affected by some mysterious malady; this accident abruptly +checked his chosen military career, and made him a man of letters. +Literature owes a great deal to enforced idleness, whether the writer be +sick or in prison. The wind bloweth where it listeth; and we perceived +once more that genius does not always accompany good health, or +maturity, or ambition; it seems to select with absolute caprice the +individuals through whom it speaks. And so this first-born child of the +brain was delivered, like human infants, on a bed of suffering; being, +to complete the analogy, none the less healthy on that account. The book +was begun in 1894, when the author was twenty years old; during +intervals of physical capacity in 1895 and 1896, it was continued, and +was submitted to the publishers in 1897. + +It was to have been published in the autumn, but the London firm decided +to postpone its appearance one year. The author employed these months in +completely rewriting the story, which he had named _Owd Bob_. Meanwhile, +the New York publishers, who had a copy of the original manuscript, +fearing that the title _Owd Bob_ lacked magnetism, wisely rechristened +it _Bob, Son of Battle_. And so, in September, 1898, the novel in its +first form, but with a new name, was printed in America; simultaneously +in England it appeared in a new form, but with the old name. In other +words, the London first edition, _Owd Bob_, is a thoroughly revised +version of the American first edition, _Bob, Son of Battle_, although +they were published at the same time. It does not seem as though the +author could have improved a book that so completely satisfies us as it +stands; and Americans, to whom _Owd Bob_ is unknown, may not believe +that it can be superior to _Bob, Son of Battle_. Nevertheless it is. The +two versions are of course alike in general features of the plot and in +outline; but no one who has read both can hesitate an instant. One has +only to compare the manner in which Red Wull made his _debut_ in America +with the chapter where he first appears (in a totally different way) in +the English edition, to see how clearly second thoughts were best. + +And yet, despite the enormous popularity of _Bob, Son of Battle_ in the +United States, and despite the fact that Englishmen had the opportunity +to read the story in a still finer form, it has not until very recently +made any impression on British readers or on London critics. Is it +possible that a book, like a dog, may be killed by a bad name? The novel +was written by an Englishman, the scenes were laid in Britain, it dealt +with manners and customs peculiarly English, and it was aimed directly +at an English public. And yet, for nearly ten years after its +publication, _Owd Bob_ remained in obscurity.[12] But its day is coming, +and the prophet will yet receive honour in his own country. In 1908 it +was reprinted in a seven-pence edition, of which fifty thousand copies +have already seen the light. This is nothing to the American +circulation; but it is promising. Bearing in mind the futility of +literary prophecy, I still believe that the day will come when _Owd Bob_ +will be generally recognised as belonging to English literature. + +[12] A year or two ago I asked one of the foremost English dramatists, +one of the foremost English novelists, and one of the foremost English +critics, men whose names are known everywhere in America, if they had +read _Bob_; not one of them had ever heard of the book. + +The splendid fidelity and devotion of the dog to his master have +certainly been in part repaid by men of letters in all stages of the +world's history. A valuable essay might be written on the dog's +contributions to literature; in the poetry of the East, hundreds of +years before Christ, the poor Indian insisted that his four-footed +friend should accompany him into eternity. We know that this bit of +Oriental pathos impressed Pope:-- + + "But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, + His faithful dog shall bear him company." + +One of the most profoundly affecting incidents in the _Odyssey_ is the +recognition of the ragged Ulysses by the noble old dog, who dies of joy. +During the last half-century, since the publication of Dr. John Brown's +_Rab and his Friends_ (1858), the dog has approached an apotheosis. +Among innumerable sketches and stories with canine heroes may be +mentioned Bret Harte's brilliant portrait of _Boonder_; Maeterlinck's +essay on dogs; Richard Harding Davis's _The Bar Sinister_; Stevenson's +whimsical comments on _The Character of Dogs_; Kipling's _Garm_; and +Jack London's initial success, _The Call of the Wild_.[13] But all these +latter-day pamphlets, good as they are, fail to reach the excellence of +_Bob, Son of Battle_. It is the best dog story ever written, and it +inspires regret that dogs cannot read. + +[13] One may fairly class with this literature the remarkable speech on +dogs delivered in his youth in a courtroom by the late Senator Vest. The +speech won the case against the evidence. + +No one who knows Mr. Ollivant's tale can by any possibility forget the +Grey Dog of Kenmuir--the perfect, gentle knight--or the thrilling +excitement of his successful struggles for the cup. He is indeed a noble +and beautiful character, with the Christian combination of serpent and +dove. But Owd Bob in a slight degree shares the fate of all beings who +approach moral perfection. He reminds us at times of Tennyson's Arthur +in the _Idylls of the King_, though he fortunately delivers no lectures. +Lancelot was wicked, and Arthur was good; but Lancelot has the touch of +earth that makes him interesting, and Arthur has more than a touch of +boredom. In _Paradise Lost_ the spotless Raphael does not compare in +charm with the picturesque Foe of God and Man. The real hero in Milton, +as I suspect the poet very well knew, is the Devil; and if Mr. Ollivant +had ignored both English and American godfathers, and called his novel +_The Tailless Tyke_, no reader could have objected. Red Wull is the +Satan of this canine epic; he has for us a fascination at once horrible +and irresistible. The author seems to have felt that the Grey Dog was +overshadowed; and he has saved our active sympathy for him by the clever +device of making him at one time dangerously ill, when we realise how +much we love him; and finally by throwing him under awful suspicion, +that we may experience--as we certainly do--the enormous relief of +beholding him guiltless. But in spite of our best instincts, Red Wull is +the protagonist. Dog and master have never been matched in a more +sinister manner than Adam McAdam and the Tailless Tyke. Bill Sikes and +his companion are nothing to it, and we cannot help remembering that to +the eternal disgrace of dogs, Bill Sikes's last friend forsook him. +Compared with Red Wull, the Hound of the Baskervilles is a pet lapdog. +When Adam and Wullie appear upon the scene, we look alive, even as their +virtuous enemies were forced to do, for we know something is bound to +happen. When the little man is greeted with a concert of hoots and +jeers, we cannot repress some sympathy for him, akin to our feeling +toward the would-be murderer Shylock, silent and solitary under the +noisy taunts of the feather-headed Gratiano. This bitter and lonely +wretch is a real character, and his strange personality is presented +with extraordinary skill. There is not a single false touch from first +to last; and the little man with the big dog abides in our memory. Red +Wull is the hero of a hundred fights; his tremendous and terrible +exploits are the very essence of piratical romance. After he has slain +the two huge beasts of the showman, McAdam exclaims with a sob of +paternal pride, "Ye play so rough, Wullie!" + +And the death of the Tailless Tyke is positively Homeric. The other +dogs, all his ruthless enemies, whisper to each other and silently steal +from the room. They know that the hour has struck, and that this will be +the last fight. The whole pack set upon him, each one goaded by the +remembrance of some murdered relative, or by some humiliating scar. Red +Wull asks nothing better than meeting them all; and the unequal combat +becomes a frightful carnage. At the very end, as much exhausted by the +labour of killing as by his own wounds, the great dog--now red +indeed--hears his master's familiar cry, "Wullie, to me!" and with a +super-canine effort he raises his dying form from the bottom of the +writhing mass, shakes off the surviving foes, and slowly staggers to +McAdam's feet. Like Samson, the dead which he slew at his death were +more than they which he slew in his life. + +Mr. Ollivant's next book, _Danny_, also a dog story, was not nearly so +effective. The human characters command the most attention, though the +old man with the weeping eye becomes a bit wearisome. The passages of +pure nature description are often exquisitely written, and prove that at +heart the author is a poet. But in the narrative portions there is an +unfortunate attempt to conceal the slightness of the story by preciosity +and affectation in the style. For the simple truth is that in _Danny_ +there is no story worth the telling. We recall distinctly the lovely +young wife and her grim ironclad of a husband, but just what happened +between the covers of the book escapes us. Although Mr. Ollivant +believes in _Danny_, in spite of or because of its lack of popularity, +he was so dissatisfied with the American edition that he suppressed it. +Such an act is an indication of the high artistic standard that he has +set for himself; ambitious as he is, he would rather merit fame than +have it. + +While the readers of _Bob_ and of _Danny_ were guessing what kind of a +dog the young author would select for his next novel, he surprised us +all by writing an uncaninical work. This story, adorned with happy +illustrations, and printed in big type, as though for the eyes of +children, was called _Red-Coat Captain_, and was enigmatically located +in "That Country." Every American publisher to whom the manuscript was +offered, rejected it, saying emphatically that it was nonsense; and if +there had not been a strain of idealism in the Head of the firm that +reconsidered and finally printed it, the book would probably never have +felt the press. Mr. Ollivant was sure that the story would appeal at +first only to a very few, and he requested the publisher not only to +refrain from issuing any advertisement, but to make the entire first +edition consist of only three copies--one for the archives of the House, +one for the author, and one for a believing friend. The children of this +world are wiser in their generation than the children of light; and the +shrewd man of business did not take the petition very seriously. The +verdict Nonsense has been loudly ratified by many reviewers and readers; +to the few it has been wisdom, to the many foolishness. For, as was said +years ago of a certain poem, "The capacity to understand such a work +must be spiritual." It matters not how clever one may be, how well read, +how sensitive to artistic beauties and defects; qualities of a totally +different nature must be present, and even then the time and place must +be right, if one is to seize the inner meaning of _Red-Coat Captain_. I +was about to say, the inner meaning of a story _like_ _Red-Coat +Captain_, but I was stopped by the thought that no story like it has +ever been published, and perhaps never will be. Both conception and +expression are profoundly original, and, in spite of some failure of +articulation, the work is strongly marked with genius. It is an allegory +based on the eleventh and twelfth commandments, which we have good +authority for believing are worth all the ten put together. From one +point of view it is a book for children; the mysterious setting of the +tale is sure to appeal to certain imaginative boys and girls. But the +early chapters, dealing with the pretty courtship and the honeymoon, +will be fully appreciated only by those who have some years to their +credit or otherwise. There is in this story the ineffable charm and +fragrance of purity. It is the lily in its author's garden. + +Mr. Ollivant's latest novel is the most conventional of the four, and +wholly unlike any of its predecessors. It is a rattling, riotous +romance, placed in the troublous times of the Napoleonic wars. The +mighty shadow of Nelson falls darkly across the narrative, but the +author has not committed the sin--so common in historical romances--of +making a historical character the chief of the _dramatis personae_. The +title role is played by _The Gentleman_, and he is a hero worthy of +Cooper or of Stevenson. Marked by reckless audacity, brilliant in +swordplay and in horsemanship, clever in turn of speech, gifted with the +manner of a pre-Revolution Duke--what more in the heroic line can a +reader desire? The architecture of the novel and the staccato paragraphs +infallibly remind one of Victor Hugo, whom, however, Mr. Ollivant does +not know. Nor, outside of the works of Stevenson, have we ever seen a +story minus love so steadily interesting. It is an amphibious book, and +those who like fighting on land and sea may have their fill. The +percentage of mortality is high; soldiers and sailors die numerously, +and the hideous details of death are worthy of _La Debacle_; there is a +welter of gore. If this were all that could be said, if the fascination +of this romance depended wholly on the crowded action, it would simply +be one more exciting tale added to the hundreds published every year; +good to read on train and turbine, but not worth serious attention or +criticism. But the incidents, while frequent and thrilling, are not, at +least to the discriminating reader, the main thing, as the Germans say. +Nor is the construction, clever enough, nor the characters, real as they +are; the main thing is the style, which, quite different from that in +his former books, is yet all his own. The style, in the best sense of +the word, is pictorial; it transforms the past into the present. The +succession of events rolls off like a glowing panorama. It is perhaps +natural that many reviewers should have praised _The Gentleman_ more +highly than all the rest of Mr. Ollivant's work put together; but, +notwithstanding its wider appeal, it lacks the permanent qualities of +_Bob_, and (I believe) of _Red-Coat Captain_, for they are original. + +That Mr. Ollivant is now on the road to physical health will be good +news. He has already done work that no one else can do, and we cannot +spare him. His four novels indicate versatility as well as much greater +gifts; and he should be watched by all who take an interest in +contemporary literature and who believe that the future is as rich as +the past. _Bob_ looks like the best English novel that has appeared +between _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_ in 1891, and _Joseph Vance_ in 1906. +Nothing but bodily obstacles can prevent its author from going far. + + + + +IX + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + + +Stevenson spent his life, like an only and lonely child, in playing +games with himself. Most boys who read romances have the dramatic +instinct; they must forthwith incarnate the memories of their reading, +and anything will do for a _mise en scene_. The mudpuddle becomes an +ocean, where the pirate ship is launched; a scrubby apple tree has +infinite possibilities. Armed with a wooden sword, the child sallies +forth in the rain, and fiercely cuts down the mulleins; could we only +see him without being seen, we should observe the wild light in his eye, +and the frown of battle on his brow. He walks cautiously in the +underbrush, to surprise the ambushed foe; and it is with rapture that he +goes to sleep in a tent, pitched six yards from the kitchen door. This +spirit of adventure remains in some men's hearts, even after the hair +has grown grey or gone; they hear the call of the wild, lock up the +desk, go into the woods, and there rejoice in a process of +decivilisation. + +In order to enjoy life, one must love it; and nobody ever loved life +more than Stevenson. "It is better to be a fool than to be dead," said +he. To him the world was always picturesque, whether he saw it through +the mists of Edinburgh, or amid the snows of Davos, or in the tropical +heat of Samoa. "Where is Samoa?" asked a friend. "Go out of the Golden +Gate," replied Stevenson, "and take the first turn to the left." This +counsel makes up in joyous imagination what it lacks in latitude and +longitude. Everything in Stevenson's bodily and mental life was an +adventure, to be begun in a spirit of reckless enthusiasm. In his +travels with a donkey, he was a beloved vagabond, whose wayside +acquaintances are to be envied; in compulsory expeditions in search of +health, he set out with as much zest as though he were after buried +treasure; everything was an adventure, and his marriage was the greatest +adventure of all. He read books with the same enthusiasm with which he +tramped, or paddled in a canoe; every new novel he opened with the +spirit of an explorer, for who knows in its pages what people one may +meet? William Archer sent him a copy of Bernard Shaw's story, _Cashel +Byron's Profession_, and Stevenson wrote in reply from Saranac Lake, +"Over Bashville the footman I howled with derision and delight; I dote +on Bashville--I could read of him for ever; _de Bashville je suis le +fervent_--there is only one Bashville, and I am his devoted slave.... +It is all mad, mad and deliriously delightful.... It is HORRID FUN.... +(I say, Archer, my God, what women!)" What would authors give for a +reading public like that? + +Prone in bed, when his attention was not diverted by a hemorrhage, he +lived amid the pageantry of gorgeous day-dreams, presented on the stage +of his brain. We know that Ben Jonson saw the Romans and Carthaginians +fighting, marching and countermarching, across his great toe. Stevenson +would have understood this perfectly. No pain or sickness ever daunted +him, or held him captive; his mind was always in some picturesque or +immensely interesting place. In composition, he seemed to have a double +consciousness; he moulded his sentences with the fastidious care of a +great artist; at the same moment he felt the growing sea-breeze, and +knew that his hero would very soon have to shorten sail. + +It is pleasant to remember that a man who had such genius for +friendship, who so generously admired the literary work of his +contemporaries, and who loved the whole world of saints and sinners, +received such widespread homage in return. His career as a man of +letters extended over twenty years; and during the last eight his name +was actually a household word. To be sure, he published much work of a +high order without getting even a hearing; his _Inland Voyage_, +_Travels with a Donkey_, _Virginibus Puerisque_, _Familiar Studies_, +_New Arabian Nights_, and even _Treasure Island_, attracted very little +attention; he remained in obscurity. But when, in the year 1886, +appeared the _Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, he found himself +famous; the thrilling excitement of the story, combined with its +powerful moral appeal, simply conquered the world. And although his own +plays were failures, he had the satisfaction of knowing that thousands +of people in theatres were spellbound by the modern Morality made out of +his novel. Few writers have become "classics" in so short a time; during +the years that remained to him, he was compelled to prepare a superb +edition of his _Complete Works_. Without ever appealing to the animal +nature of humanity, he had the keen satisfaction of reigning in the +hearts of uncultivated readers, and of receiving the almost universal +tribute of refined critics. There are authors who are the delight of a +bookish few, and there are authors with an enormous public and no +reputation. There are poets like Donne, and prose-masters like Browne, +precious to the men and women of patrician taste; and there are some +familiar examples of the other kind, needless to call by name. Stevenson +pleases us all; for he always has a good story, and the subtlety of his +art gives to his narrative imperishable beauty. + +Stevenson's appearance as a novelist was in itself an adventure. He +seemed at first as obsolete as a soldier of fortune. He was as +unexpected and as picturesque among contemporary writers of fiction as +an Elizabethan knight in a modern drawing-room. When he placed _Treasure +Island_ on the literary map, Realism was at its height in some +localities, and at its depth in others. But it was everywhere the +standard form, in which young writers strove to embody their visions. +Zola had just made an address in which he remarked that Walter Scott was +dead, and that the fashion of his style had passed away. The +experimental novel would go hand in hand with the advance of scientific +thought. And there were many who believed that Zola spoke the truth. +This state of affairs was a tremendous challenge to Stevenson, and he +accepted it in the spirit of chivalry. The very name of his first novel, +_Treasure Island_, was like the flying of a flag. Those critics who saw +it must have smiled, and shaken their wise heads, for had not the time +for such follies gone by? Stevenson was fully aware of what he was +doing; in the midst of contemporary fiction he felt as impatient and as +ill at ease as a boy, imprisoned in a circle of elders, whose +conversation does not in the least interest him. His sentiments are +clearly shown in a letter to the late Mr. Henley, written shortly after +the appearance of _Treasure Island_, and which is important enough to +quote somewhat fully:-- + + "I do desire a book of adventure--a romance--and no man will get or + write me one. Dumas I have read and reread too often; Scott, too, + and I am short. I want to hear swords clash. I want a book to begin + in a good way; a book, I guess, like _Treasure Island_, alas! which + I have never read, and cannot though I live to ninety. I would God + that someone else had written it! By all that I can learn, it is + the very book for my complaint. I like the way I hear it opens; and + they tell me John Silver is good fun. And to me it is, and must + ever be, a dream unrealised, a book unwritten. O my sighings after + romance, or even Skeltery, and O! the weary age which will produce + me neither! + + + CHAPTER I + + The night was damp and cloudy, the ways foul. The single horseman, + cloaked and booted, who pursued his way across Willesden Common, + had not met a traveller, when the sound of wheels-- + + + CHAPTER I + + 'Yes, sir,' said the old pilot, 'she must have dropped into the bay + a little afore dawn. A queer craft she looks.' + + 'She shows no colours,' returned the young gentleman, musingly. + + 'They're a-lowering of a quarter-boat, Mr. Mark,' resumed the old + salt. 'We shall soon know more of her.' + + 'Ay,' replied the young gentleman called Mark, 'and here, Mr. + Seadrift, comes your sweet daughter Nancy tripping down the cliff.' + + 'God bless her kind heart, sir,' ejaculated old Seadrift. + + + CHAPTER I + + The notary, Jean Rossignol, had been summoned to the top of a great + house in the Isle St. Louis to make a will; and now, his duties + finished, wrapped in a warm roquelaure and with a lantern swinging + from one hand, he issued from the mansion on his homeward way. + Little did he think what strange adventures were to befall him!-- + + That is how stories should begin. And I am offered HUSKS instead. + + What should be: What is: + The Filibuster's Cache. Aunt Anne's Tea Cosy. + Jerry Abershaw. Mrs. Brierly's Niece. + Blood Money: A Tale. Society: A Novel." + +The time was out of joint; but Stevenson was born to set it right. Not +seven years after the posting of this letter, the recent Romantic +Revival had begun. In the year of his death, 1894, it was in full swing; +everybody was reading not only Stevenson, but _The Prisoner of Zenda_, +_A Gentleman of France_, _Under the Red Robe_, etc. Whatever we may +think of the literary quality of some of these then popular stories, +there is no doubt that the change was in many ways beneficial, and that +the influence of Stevenson was more responsible for it than that of any +other one man. This was everywhere recognised: in the _Athenaeum_ for 22 +December, 1894, a critic remarked, "The Romantic Revival in the English +novel of to-day had in him its leader.... But for him they might have +been Howells and James young men." As a germinal writer, Stevenson will +always occupy an important place in the history of English prose +fiction. And seldom has a man been more conscious of his mission. + +Stevenson's high standing as an English classic depends very largely on +the excellence of his literary style, although Scott and Cooper won +immortality without it. (One wonders if they could to-day.) When some +fifteen years ago a few critics had the temerity to suggest that he was +equal, if not superior, to these worthies, it sounded like blasphemy; +but such an opinion is not uncommon now, and may be reasonably defended. +Stevenson lacked in some degree the virility and the astonishing +fertility of invention possessed by Scott; but he exhibited a technical +skill undreamed of by his great predecessor. From the prefatory verses +to _Treasure Island_, we know that he admired Cooper; and he loved Sir +Walter, without being in the least blind to his faults. "It is +undeniable that the love of the slap-dash and the shoddy grew upon Scott +with success." He "had not only splendid romantic, but splendid tragic, +gifts. How comes it, then, that he could so often fob us off with +languid, inarticulate twaddle?... He was a great day-dreamer, a seer of +fit and beautiful and humorous visions, but hardly a great artist; +hardly, in the manful sense, an artist at all." Stevenson seems to have +felt that Scott's deficiencies in style were not merely artistic, but +moral; he lacked the patience and the particular kind of industry +required. Scott loved to tell a good story, but he loved the story +better than he did the telling of it; Stevenson, on the other hand, was +fully as much absorbed by the manner of narration as by the narration +itself. Stevenson was keenly alive to the fact that writers of romances +did not seem to feel the necessity of style; whereas those who wrote +novels wherein nothing happened, felt that a good style atoned for both +the lack of incident and the lack of ideas. Stevenson's articles of +literary faith apparently included the dogma that a mysterious, +blood-curdling romance had fully as much dignity as a minute examination +of the dreary, commonplace life of the submerged; and that the former +made just as high a demand on the endowment and industry of a +master-artist. If he had had not an idea in his head, he could not have +written with more elegance. + +There is, of course, some truth in the charge that Stevenson was not +only a master of style, but a stylist. He is indeed something of a +macaroni in words; occasionally he struts a bit, and he loves to show +his brilliant plumes. He performed dexterous tricks with language, like +a musician with a difficult instrument. He liked style for its own sake, +and was not averse to exhibiting his technique. In a slight degree, his +attitude and his influence in mere composition are somewhat similar to +those of John Lyly three hundred years before. Lyly delighted his +readers with unexpected quips and quiddities, with a fantastic display +of rhetoric; he showed, as no one had before him, the possible +flexibility of English prose. There is more than a touch of Euphuism in +Stevenson; he was never insincere, but he was consciously fine. Many +have swallowed without salt his statement that he learned to write by +imitation; that by the "sedulous ape" method, employed with unwearying +study of great models, he himself became a successful author. Men of +genius are never to be trusted when they discuss the origin and +development of their powers; it is no more to be believed that Stevenson +learned to be a great writer by imitating Browne, than that _The Raven_ +really reached its perfection in the manner so minutely described by +Poe. The faithful practice of composition will doubtless help any +ambitious young man or woman. But Stevensons are not made in that +fashion. If they were, anyone with plenty of time and patience could +become a great author. This "ape" remark by Stevenson has had one +interesting effect; if he imitated others, he has been strenuously +imitated himself. Probably no recent English writer has been more +constantly employed for rhetorical purposes, and there is none whose +influence on style is more evident in the work of contemporary aspirants +in fiction. + +The stories of Stevenson exhibit a double union, as admirable as it is +rare. They exhibit the union of splendid material with the most delicate +skill in language; and they exhibit the union of thrilling events with a +remarkable power of psychological analysis. Every thoughtful reader has +noticed these combinations; but we sometimes forget that Silver, Alan, +Henry, and the Master are just as fine examples of character-portrayal +as can be found in the works of Henry James. It is from this point of +view that Stevenson is so vastly superior to Fenimore Cooper; just as in +literary style he so far surpasses Scott. _Treasure Island_ is much +better than _The Red Rover_ or _The Pirate_; its author actually beat +Scott and Cooper at their own game. With the exception of _Henry +Esmond_, Stevenson may perhaps be said to have written the best romances +in the English language; the undoubted inferiority of any of his books +to that masterpiece would make an interesting subject for reflexion. + +The one thing in which Scott really excelled Stevenson was in the +depiction of women. The latter has given us no Diana Vernon or Jeannie +Deans. For the most part, Stevenson's romances are Paradise before the +creation of Eve. The snake is there, but not the woman. This +extraordinary absence of sex-interest is a notable feature, and many +have been the reasons assigned for it. If he had not tried at all, we +should be safe in saying that, like a small boy, he felt that girls were +in the way, and he did not want them mussing up his games. There is +perhaps some truth in this; for the presence of a girl might have ruined +_Treasure Island_, as it ruined the _Sea Wolf_. Her fuss and feathers +bring in all sorts of bothersome problems to distract a novelist, bent +on having a good time with pirates, murders, and hidden treasure. +Unfortunately for the complete satisfaction of this explanation, +Stevenson wrote _Prince Otto_, and tried to draw a real woman. The +result did not add anything to his fame, and, indeed, the whole book +missed fire. He was unquestionably more successful in _David Balfour_, +but, when all is said, the presence of women in a few of Stevenson's +romances is not so impressive as their absence in most. It is only in +that unfinished work, _Weir of Hermiston_, which gave every promise of +being one of the greatest novels in English literature, that he seemed +to have reached full maturity of power in dealing with the master +passion. The best reason for Stevenson's reserve on matters of sex was +probably his delicacy; he did not wish to represent this particular +animal impulse with the same vivid reality he pictured avarice, +ambition, courage, cowardice, and pride; and thus hampered by +conscience, he thought it best in the main to omit it altogether. At +least, this is the way he felt about it, as we may learn from the +_Vailima Letters_:-- + + "This is a poison bad world for the romancer, this Anglo-Saxon + world; I usually get out of it by not having any women in it at + all." (February, 1892.) + + "I am afraid my touch is a little broad in a love story; I can't + mean one thing and write another. As for women, I am no more in any + fear of them; I can do a sort all right; age makes me less afraid + of a petticoat, but I am a little in fear of grossness. However, + this David Balfour's love affair, that's all right--might be read + out to a mothers' meeting--or a daughters' meeting. The difficulty + in a love yarn, which dwells at all on love, is the dwelling on one + string; it is manifold, I grant, but the root fact is there + unchanged, and the sentiment being very intense, and already very + much handled in letters, positively calls for a little pawing and + gracing. With a writer of my prosaic literalness and pertinency of + point of view, this all shoves toward grossness--positively even + towards the far more damnable _closeness_. This has kept me off the + sentiment hitherto, and now I am to try: Lord! Of course Meredith + can do it, and so could Shakespeare; but with all my romance, I am + a realist and a prosaist, and a most fanatical lover of plain + physical sensations plainly and expressly rendered; hence my + perils. To do love in the same spirit as I did (for instance) D. + Balfour's fatigue in the heather; my dear sir, there were + grossness--ready made! And hence, how to sugar?" (May, 1892.) + +On the whole, I am inclined to think, that with the omission of the +fragment, _Weir of Hermiston_, Stevenson's best novel is his +first--_Treasure Island_. He wrote this with peculiar zest; first of +all, in spite of the playful dedication, to please himself; second, to +see if the public appetite for Romance could once more be stimulated. He +never did anything later quite so off-hand, quite so spontaneous. His +maturer books, brilliant as they are, lack the peculiar _brightness_ of +_Treasure Island_. It has more unity than _The Master of Ballantrae_; and +it has a greater group of characters than _Kidnapped_. + +Stevenson told this story in the first person, but, by a clever device, +he avoided the chief difficulty of that method of narration. The speaker +is not one of the principal characters in the story, though he shares in +the most thrilling adventures. We thus have all the advantages of direct +discourse, all the gain in reality--without a hint as to what will be +the fate of the leading actors. Stevenson said, in one of the _Vailima +Letters_, that first-person tales were more in accord with his +temperament. The purely objective character of this novel is noteworthy, +and entirely proper, coming from a perfectly normal boy. The _Essays_ +show that Stevenson could be sufficiently introspective if he chose, and +_Dr. Jekyll_ is really an introspective novel, differing in every way +from _Treasure Island_. But here we have romantic adventures seen +through the fresh eyes of boyhood, producing their unconscious reflex +action on the soul of the narrator, who daily grows in courage and +self-reliance by grappling with danger. In Henry James's fine and +penetrating essay on Stevenson, he says of this book, "What we see in it +is not only the ideal fable, but the young reader himself and his state +of mind: we seem to read it over his shoulder, with an arm around his +neck." This particular remark has been much praised; but it seems in a +way to half-apologise for a man's interest in the story, and to explain +it like an affectionate uncle's sympathetic interest in a child's game, +who mainly enjoys the child's enthusiasm. Now I venture to say that no +one can any more outgrow _Treasure Island_ than he can outgrow _Robinson +Crusoe_. The events in the story delight children; but it is a book that +in mature years can be read and reread with ever increasing satisfaction +and profit. No one needs to regret or to explain his interest in this +novel; it is nothing to be sorry for, nor does it indicate a low order +of literary taste. Many serious persons have felt somewhat alarmed by +their pleasure in reading _Treasure Island_, and have hesitated to +assign it a high place in fiction. Some have said that, after all, it is +only a pirate story, differing from the Sleuths and Harkaways merely in +being better written. But this is exactly the point, and a very +important point, in criticism. In art, the subject is of comparatively +little importance, whereas the treatment is the absolute distinguishing +feature. To insist that there is little difference between _Treasure +Island_ and any cheap tale of blood-and-thunder, is equivalent to saying +that there is little difference between the Sistine Madonna and a +cottage chromo of the Virgin. + +Pew is a fearsome personage, and a notable example of the triumph of +mind over the most serious of all physical disabilities. Theoretically, +it seems strange that able-bodied individuals should be afraid of a man +who is stone blind. But the appearance of Pew is enough to make anybody +take to his heels. He is the very essence of authority and leadership. +The tap-tapping of his stick in the moonlight makes one's blood run +cold. We are apt to think of blind people as gentle, sweet, pure, and +holy; made submissive and tender by misfortune, dependent on the +kindness of others. Old Pew has lost his eyes, but not his nerve. To see +so black-hearted and unscrupulous a villain, his sight taken away as it +were by the hand of God, and yet intent only on desperate wickedness, +upsets the moral order; he becomes an uncanny monstrosity; he takes on +the hue of a supernatural fiend. John Silver has lost a leg, but he +circumvents others by the speed of his mind; amazingly quick in +perception, a most astute politician, arrested from no treachery or +murder by any moral principle or touch of pity, he has the dark +splendour of unflinching depravity. He is no Laodicean. He never lets I +dare not wait upon I would. His course seems fickle and changeable, but +he is really steering steadily by the compass of self-interest. He can +be witty, affectionate, sympathetic, friendly, submissive, flattering, +and also a devilish beast. He is the very chameleon of crime. Stevenson +simply had not the heart to kill so consummate an artist in villainy. It +was no mean achievement to create two heroes so sinister as Pew and +Silver, while depriving one of his sight and the other of a leg. One +wearies of the common run of romances, where the chief character is a +man of colossal size and beautifully proportioned, so that his victories +over various rascals are really only athletic records. In _Treasure +Island_, the emphasis is laid in the right place, whence leadership +comes; everybody is afraid of Long John, and nobody minds Ben Gunn, dead +or alive.[14] + +[14] It is interesting to remember that the crippled poet, W. E. Henley, +was the original of Silver. Writing to Henley, May, 1883, Stevenson +said, "I will now make a confession. It was the sight of your maimed +strength and masterfulness that begot John Silver." + +There are scenes in this story, presented with such dramatic power, and +with such astonishing felicity of diction, that, once read, they can +never pass from the reader's mind. The expression in Silver's face, as +he talks with Tom in the marsh, first ingratiatingly friendly, then +suspicious, then as implacable as malignant fate. The hurling of the +crutch; the two terrific stabs of the knife. "I could hear him pant +aloud as he struck the blows." The boy's struggle on the schooner with +Israel Hands; the awful moment in the little boat, while Flint's gunner +is training the "long nine" on her, and the passengers can do nothing +but await the result of the enemy's skill; the death of the faithful old +servant, Redruth, who said he thought somebody might read a prayer. + +Much has been written in both prose and verse of the fascination of +Stevenson's personality. He was so different in different moods that no +two of his friends have ever agreed as to what manner of man he really +was. As he chose to express his genius mainly in objective romances, +future generations will find in the majority of his works no hint as to +the character of the author. From this point of view, compare for a +moment _The Master of Ballantrae_ with _Joseph Vance_! But fortunately, +Stevenson elected to write personal essays; and still more fortunately, +hundreds of his most intimate letters are preserved in type. Some think +that these _Letters_ form his greatest literary work, and that they will +outlast his novels, plays, poems, and essays. For they will have a +profound interest long after the last person who saw Stevenson on earth +has passed away. They are the revelation of a man even more interesting +than any of the wonderful characters he created; they show that men like +Philip Sidney were as possible in the nineteenth century as in the +brilliant age of Elizabeth. The life of Stevenson has added immensely to +our happiness and enjoyment of the world, and no literary figure in +recent times had more radiance and wholesome charm. His optimism was +based on a chronic experience of physical pain and weakness; to him it +was a good world, and he made it distinctly better by his presence. He +was a combination of the Bohemian and the Covenanter; he had all the +graces of one, and the bed-rock moral earnestness of the other. "The +world must return some day to the word 'duty,'" said he, "and be done +with the word 'reward.'" He was the incarnation of the happy union of +virtue and vivacity. + + + + +X + +MRS. HUMPHRY WARD + + +It is high time that somebody spoke out his mind about Mrs. Humphry +Ward. Her prodigious vogue is one of the most extraordinary literary +phenomena of our day. A roar of approval greets the publication of every +new novel from her active pen, and it is almost pathetic to contemplate +the reverent awe of her army of worshippers when they behold the solemn +announcement that she is "collecting material" for another masterpiece. +Even professional reviewers lose all sense of proportion when they +discuss her books, and their so-called criticisms sound like publishers' +advertisements. Sceptics are warned to remain silent, lest they become +unpleasantly conspicuous. When _Lady Rose's Daughter_ appeared, the +critic of a great metropolitan daily remarked that whoever did not +immediately recognise the work as a masterpiece thereby proclaimed +himself as a person incapable of judgement, taste, and appreciation. +This is a fair example of the attitude taken by thousands of her +readers, and it is this attitude, rather than the value of her work, +that we must, first of all, consider. + +In the year 1905 an entirely respectable journal said of Mrs. Ward, +"There is no more interesting and important figure in the literary world +to-day." In comparing this superlative with the actual state of affairs, +we find that we were asked to believe that Mrs. Ward was a literary +personage not second in importance to Tolstoi, Ibsen, Bjoernson, Heyse, +Sudermann, Hauptmann, Anatole France, Jules Lemaitre, Rostand, +Swinburne, Thomas Hardy, Meredith, Kipling, and Mark Twain. At about the +same time a work appeared intended as a text-book for the young, which +declared Mrs. Ward to be "the greatest living writer of fiction in +English literature," and misspelled her name--an excellent illustration +of carelessness in adjectives with inaccuracy in facts. Over and over +again we have heard the statement that the "mantle" of George Eliot has +fallen on Mrs. Ward. Is it really true that her stories are equal in +value to _Adam Bede_, _The Mill on the Floss_, and _Middlemarch_? + +The object of this essay is not primarily to attack a dignified and +successful author; it is rather to enquire, in a proper spirit of +humility, and with a full realisation of the danger incurred, whether or +not the actual output justifies so enormous a reputation. For in some +respects I believe the vogue of Mrs. Ward to be more unfortunate than +the vogue of the late lamented Duchess, of Laura Jean Libbey, of Mrs. E. +D. E. N. Southworth, of Marie Corelli, and of Hall Caine. When we are +asked to note that 300,000 copies of the latest novel by any of these +have been sold before the book is published, there is no cause for +alarm. We know perfectly well what that means. It is what is called a +"business proposition"; it has nothing to do with literature. It simply +proves that it is possible to make as splendid a fortune out of the +trade of book-making, and by equally respectable methods, as is made in +other legitimate avenues of business. But the case is quite different +with Mrs. Ward. Whatever she is, she is not vulgar, sensational, or +cheap; she has never made the least compromise with her moral ideals, +nor has she ever attempted to play to the gallery. Her constituency is +made up largely of serious-minded, highly respectable people, who live +in good homes, who are fairly well read, and who ought to know the +difference between ordinary and extraordinary literature. Her books have +had a bad effect in blurring this distinction in the popular mind; for +while she has never written a positively bad book,--with the possible +exception of _Bessie Costrell_,--I feel confident that she has never +written supremely well; that, compared with the great masters of +fiction, she becomes immediately insignificant. If there ever was a +successful writer whose work shows industry and talent rather than +genius, that writer is Mrs. Ward. If there ever was a successful writer +whose work is ordinary rather than extraordinary, it is Mrs. Ward. + +To those of us who delight in getting some enjoyment even out of the +most depressing facts, the growth of Mrs. Ward's reputation has its +humorous aspect. The same individuals (mostly feminine) who in 1888 read +_Robert Elsmere_ with dismay, who thought the sale of the work should be +prohibited, and the copies already purchased removed from circulating +libraries, are the very same ones who now worship what they once +denounced. She was then regarded as a destroyer of Christian faith. +Well, if she was Satan then, she is Satan still (one Western clergyman, +in advocating at that time the suppression of the work, said he believed +in hitting the devil right between the eyes). She has given no sign of +recantation, or even of penitence. I remember one fond mother, who, +fearful of the effect of the book on her daughter's growing mind, marked +all the worst passages, and then told Alice she might read it, provided +she skipped all the blazed places! That indicated not only a fine +literary sense, but a remarkable knowledge of human nature. I wonder +what the poor girl did when she came to the danger signals! And, as a +matter of fact, how valuable or vital would a Christian faith be that +could be destroyed by the perusal of _Robert Elsmere_? It is almost +difficult now to bring to distinct recollection the tremendous +excitement caused by Mrs. Ward's first successful novel, for it is a +long time since I heard its name mentioned. The last public notice of it +that I can recall was a large sign which appeared some fifteen years ago +in a New Haven apothecary's window to the effect that one copy of +_Robert Elsmere_ would be presented free to each purchaser of a cake of +soap! + +Although _Robert Elsmere_ was an immediate and prodigious success, and +made it certain that whatever its author chose to write next would be +eagerly bought, it is wholly untrue to say that her subsequent novels +have depended in any way on _Elsmere_ for their reputation. There are +many instances in professional literary careers where one immensely +successful book--_Lorna Doone_, for example--has floated a long +succession of works that could not of themselves stay above water; many +an author has succeeded in attaching a life-preserver to literary +children who cannot swim. Far otherwise is the case with Mrs. Ward. It +is probable that over half the readers of _Diana Mallory_ have never +seen a copy of _Robert Elsmere_, for which, incidentally, they are to be +congratulated. But many of us can easily recollect with what intense +eagerness the novel that followed that sensation was awaited. Every one +wondered if it would be equally good; and many confidently predicted +that she had shot her bolt. As a matter of fact, not only was _David +Grieve_ a better novel than _Robert Elsmere_, but, in my judgement, it +is the best book its author has ever written. Oscar Wilde said that +_Robert Elsmere_ was _Literature and Dogma_ with the literature left +out. Now, _David Grieve_ has no dogma at all, but in a certain sense it +does belong to literature. It has some actual dynamic quality. The +character of David, and its development in a strange environment, are +well analysed; and altogether the best thing in the work, taken as a +whole, is the perspective. It is a difficult thing to follow a character +from childhood up, within the pages of one volume, and have anything +like the proper perspective. It requires for one thing, hard, +painstaking industry; but Mrs. Ward has never been afraid of work. She +cannot be accused of laziness or carelessness. The ending of this book +is, of course, weak, like the conclusion of all her books, for she has +never learned the fine art of saying farewell, either to her characters +or to the reader. + +It was in the year 1894--a year made memorable by the appearance of +_Trilby_, the _Prisoner of Zenda_, _The Jungle Book_, _Lord Ormont and +his Aminta_, _Esther Waters_, and other notable novels--that Mrs. Ward +greatly increased her reputation and widened her circle of +readers by the publication of _Marcella_. Here she gave us a +political-didactic-realistic novel, which she has continued to publish +steadily ever since under different titles. It was gravely announced +that this new book would deal with socialism and the labour question. +Many readers, who felt that she had said the last word on agnosticism in +_Elsmere_, now looked forward with reverent anticipation not only to the +final solution of socialistic problems, but to some coherent arrangement +of their own vague and confused ideas. Naturally, they got just what +they deserved--a voluminous statement of various aspects of the problem, +with no solution at all. It is curious how many persons suppose that +their favourite author or orator has done something toward settling +questions, when, as a matter of fact, all he has done is to _state_ +them, and then state them again. This is especially true of +philosophical and metaphysical difficulties. Think how eagerly readers +took up Professor James's exceedingly clever book on Pragmatism, hoping +at last to find rest in some definite principle. And if there ever was a +blind alley in philosophy, it is Pragmatism--the very essence of +agnosticism. + +Now, _Marcella_, as a document, is both radical and reactionary. There +is an immense amount of radical talk; but the heroine's schemes fail, +the Labour party is torn by dissension, Wharton proves to be a +scoundrel, and the rebel Marcella marries a respectable nobleman. There +is not a single page in the book, with all its wilderness of words, that +can be said to be in any sense a serious contribution to the greatest of +all purely political problems. And, as a work of art, it is painfully +limited; but since it has the same virtues and defects of all her +subsequent literary output, we may consider what these virtues and +defects are. + +In the first place, Mrs. Ward is totally lacking in one almost +fundamental quality of the great novelist--a keen sense of humour. Who +are the English novelists of the first class? They are Defoe, +Richardson, Fielding, Scott, Jane Austen, Dickens, Thackeray, George +Eliot, Stevenson, and perhaps Hardy. Every one of these shows humour +enough and to spare, with the single exception of Richardson, and he +atoned for the deficiency by a terrible intensity that has seldom, if +ever, been equalled in English fiction. Now, the absence of humour in a +book is not only a positive loss to the reader, in that it robs him of +the fun which is an essential part of the true history of any human +life, and thereby makes the history to that extent inaccurate and +unreal, but the writer who has no humour seldom gets the right point of +view. There is infinitely more in the temperament of the humorist than +mere laughter. Just as the poet sees life through the medium of a +splendid imagination, so the humorist has the almost infallible guide of +sympathy. The humorist sees life in a large, tolerant, kindly way; he +knows that life is a tragi-comedy, and he makes the reader feel it in +that fashion. + +Again, the lack of humour in a writer destroys the sense of proportion. +The humorist sees the salient points--the merely serious writer gives us +a mass of details. In looking back over the thousands of pages of +fiction that Mrs. Ward has published, how few great scenes stand out +bright in the memory! The principle of selection--so important a part of +all true art--is conspicuous only by its absence. This is one reason for +the sameness of her books. All that we can remember is an immense number +of social functions and an immense amount of political gossip--a long, +sad level of mediocrity. This perhaps helps to explain why German +fiction is so markedly inferior to the French. The German, in his +scientific endeavour to get in the whole of life, gives us a mass of +unrelated detail. A French writer by a few phrases makes us see a +character more clearly than a German presents him after many painful +pages of wearisome description. + +Mrs. Ward is not too much in earnest in following her ideals of art; no +one can be. But she is too sadly serious. There is a mental tension in +her books, like the tension of overwork and mental exhaustion, like the +tension of overwrought nerves; her books are, in fact, filled with tired +and overworked men and women, jaded and gone stale. How many of her +characters seem to need a change--what they want is rest and sleep! Many +of them ought to be in a sanatorium. + +Her books are devoid of charm. One does not have to compare her with the +great masters to feel this deficiency; it would not be fair to compare +her with Thackeray. But if we select among all the novelists of real +distinction the one whom, perhaps, she most closely approaches,--Anthony +Trollope,--the enormous distance between _Diana Mallory_ and _Framley +Parsonage_ is instantly manifest. We think of Trollope with a glow of +reminiscent delight; but although Trollope and Mrs. Ward talk endlessly +on much the same range of subject-matter, how far apart they really are! +Mrs. Ward's books are crammed with politicians and clergymen, who keep +the patient reader informed on modern aspects of political and religious +thought; but the difficulty is that they substitute phrases for ideas. +Mrs. Ward knows all the political and religious cant of the day; she is +familiar with the catch-words that divide men into hostile camps; but in +all these dreary pages of serious conversation there is no real +illumination. She completely lacks the art that Trollope possessed, of +making ordinary people attractive. But to find out the real distance +that separates her productions from literature, one should read, let us +say, _The Marriage of William Ashe_ and then take up _Pride and +Prejudice_. The novels of Mrs. Ward bear about the same relation to +first-class fiction that maps and atlases bear to great paintings. + +This lack of charm that I always feel in reading Mrs. Ward's books (and +I have read them all) is owing not merely to the lack of humour. It is +partly due to what seems to be an almost total absence of freshness, +spontaneity, and originality. Mrs. Ward works like a well-trained and +high-class graduate student, who is engaged in the preparation of a +doctor's thesis. Her discussions of socialism, her scenes in the House +of Commons and on the Terrace, her excursions to Italy, her references +to political history, her remarks on the army, her disquisitions on +theology, her pictures of campaign riots, her studies of defective +drainage, her representations of the labouring classes,--all these are +"worked up" in a scholarly and scientific manner; there is the modern +passion for accuracy, there is the German completeness of detail,--there +is, in fact, everything except the breath of life. She works in the +descriptive manner, from the outside in--not in the inspired manner +which goes with imagination, sympathy, and genius. She is not only a +student, she is a journalist; she is a special correspondent on +politics and theology; but she is not a creative writer. For she has the +critical, not the creative, temperament. + +The monotonous sameness of her books, which has been mentioned above, is +largely owing to the sameness of her characters. She changes the frames, +but not the portraits. First of all, in almost any of her books we are +sure to meet the studious, intellectual young man. He always has a +special library on some particular subject, with the books all +annotated. One wearies of this perpetual character's perpetual library, +crowded, as it always is, with the latest French and German monographs. +Her heroes smell of books and dusty dissertations, and the conversations +of these heroes are plentifully lacking in native wit and +originality--they are the mere echoes of their reading. Let us pass in +review a few of these serious students--Robert Elsmere, Langham, Aldous +Reyburn (who changes into Lord Maxwell, but who remains a prig), the +melancholy Helbeck, the insufferable Manisty, Jacob Delafield, William +Ashe, Oliver Marsham--all, all essentially the same, tiresome, dull, +heavy men--what a pity they were not intended as satires! Second, as a +foil to this man, we have the Byronic, clever, romantic, sentimental, +insincere man--who always degenerates or dies in a manner that exalts +the dull and superior virtues of his antagonist. Such a man is Wharton, +or Sir George Tressady, or Captain Warkworth, or Cliffe--they have +different names in different novels, but they are the same character. +Curiously enough, the only convincing men that appear in her pages are +_old_ men--men like Lord Maxwell or Sir James Chide. In portraying this +type she achieves success. + +What shall we say of her heroines? They have the same suspicious +resemblance so characteristic of her heroes; they are represented as +physically beautiful, intensely eager for morality and justice, with an +extraordinary fund of information, and an almost insane desire to impart +it. Her heroine is likely to be or to become a power in politics; even +at a tender age she rules society by the brilliancy of her conversation; +in a crowded drawing-room the Prime Minister hangs upon her words; +diplomats are amazed at her intimate knowledge of foreign relations, and +of the resources of the British Empire; and she can entertain a whole +ring of statesmen and publicists by giving to each exactly the right +word at the right moment. Men who are making history come to her not +only for inspiration but for guidance, for she can discourse fluently on +all phases of the troublesome labour question. And yet, if we may judge +of this marvellous creature not by the attitude of the other characters +in the book, but by the actual words that fall from her lips, we are +reminded of the woman whom Herbert Spencer's friends selected as his +potential spouse. They shut him up with her, and awaited the result with +eagerness, for they told him she had a great mind; but on emerging from +the trial interview Spencer remarked that she would not do at all: "The +young lady is, in my opinion, too highly intellectual; or, I should +rather say--morbidly intellectual. A small brain in a state of intense +activity." Was there ever a better formula for Mrs. Ward's constantly +recurring heroine? Now, as a foil to Marcella, Diana Mallory, and the +others, Mrs. Ward gives us the frivolous, mischief-making, would-be +brilliant, and actually vulgar woman, who makes much trouble for the +heroine and ultimately more for herself--the wife of Sir George +Tressady, the young upstart in _Diana Mallory_, and all the rest of +them. By the introduction of these characters there is an attempt to +lend colour to the dull pages of the novels. These women are at heart +adventuresses, but they are apt to lack the courage of their +convictions; instead of being brilliant and terrible,--like the great +adventuresses of fiction,--they are as dull in sin as their antagonists +are dull in virtue. Mrs. Ward cannot make them real; compare any one of +them with Thackeray's Beatrix or with Becky Sharp--to say nothing of the +long list of sinister women in French and Russian fiction. + +There are no "supreme moments" in Mrs. Ward's books; no great dramatic +situations; she has tried hard to manage this, for she has had +repeatedly one eye on the stage. When _The Marriage of William Ashe_ and +_Lady Rose's Daughter_ appeared, one could almost feel the strain for +dramatic effect. It was as though she had realised that her previous +books were treatises rather than novels, and had gathered all her +energies together to make a severe effort for real drama. But, +unfortunately, the scholarly and critical temperament is not primarily +adapted for dramatic masterpieces. In the endeavour to recall thrilling +scenes in her novels, scenes that brand themselves for ever on the +memory, one has only to compare her works with such stories as _Far From +the Madding Crowd_ or _The Return of the Native_, and her painful +deficiency is immediately apparent. + +In view of what I believe to be the standard mediocrity of her novels, +how shall we account for their enormous vogue? The fact is, whether we +like it or not, that she is one of the most widely read of all living +novelists. Well, in the first place, she is absolutely respectable and +safe. It is assuredly to her credit that she has never stooped for +popularity. She has never descended to melodrama, clap-trap, or +indecency. She is never spectacular and declamatory like Marie Corelli, +and she is never morally offensive like some popular writers who might +be mentioned. She writes for a certain class of readers whom she +thoroughly understands: they are the readers who abhor both vulgarity +and pruriency, and who like to enter vicariously, as they certainly do +in her novels, into the best English society. In her social functions +her readers can have the pleasure of meeting prime ministers, lords, and +all the dwellers in Mayfair, and they know that nothing will be said +that is shocking or improper. Her books can safely be recommended to +young people, and they reflect the current movement of English thought +as well as could be done by a standard English review. She has a +well-furnished and highly developed intellect; she is deeply read; she +makes her readers think that they are thinking. She tries to make up for +artistic deficiencies by an immense amount of information. Fifty years +ago it is probable that she would not have written novels at all, but +rather thoughtful and intellectual critical essays, for which her mind +is admirably fitted. She unconsciously chose the novel simply because +the novel has been, during the last thirty years, the chief channel of +literary expression. But in spite of her popularity, it should never be +forgotten that the novel is an art-form, not a medium for doctrinaires. + +Then, with her sure hand on the pulse of the public, she is always +intensely modern, intensely contemporary; again like a well-trained +journalist. She knows exactly what Society is talking about, for she +emphatically belongs to it. This is once more a reason why so many +people believe that she holds the key to great problems of social life, +and that her next book will give the solution. Many hoped that her novel +on America, carefully worked up during her visit here, would give the +final word on American social life. Both England and the United States +were to find out what the word "American" really means. + +Mrs. Ward is an exceedingly talented, scholarly, and thoughtful woman, +of lofty aims and actuated only by noble motives; she is hungry for +intellectual food, reading both old texts and the daily papers with +avidity. She has a highly trained, sensitive, critical mind,--but she is +destitute of the divine spark of genius. Her books are the books of +to-day, not of to-morrow; for while the political and religious +questions of to-day are of temporary interest, the themes of the world's +great novels are what Richardson called "love and nonsense, men and +women"--and these are eternal. + + + + +XI + +RUDYARD KIPLING + + +Mr. Rudyard Kipling is in the anomalous and fortunate position of having +enjoyed a prodigious reputation for twenty years, and being still a +young man. Few writers in the world to-day are better known than he; and +it is to be hoped and expected that he has before him over thirty years +of active production. He has not yet attained the age of forty-five; but +his numerous stories, novels, and poems have reached the unquestioned +dignity of "works," and in uniform binding they make on my library +shelves a formidable and gallant display. Foreigners read them in their +own tongues; critical essays in various languages are steadily +accumulating; and he has received the honour of being himself the hero +of a strange French novel.[15] His popularity with the general mass of +readers has been sufficient to satisfy the wildest dreams of an author's +ambition; and his fame is, in a way, officially sanctioned by the +receipt of honorary degrees from McGill University, from Durham, from +Oxford, and from Cambridge; and in 1907 he was given the Nobel Prize, +with the ratifying applause of the whole world. There is no indication +that either the shouts of the mob or the hoods of Doctorates have turned +his head; he remains to-day what he always has been--a hard, +conscientious workman, trying to do his best every time. + +[15] A curious and ironical book, _Dingley_, by Tharaud. + +Although Mr. Kipling is British to the core, there is nothing insular +about his experience; he is as much-travelled as Ulysses. + + "For always roaming with a hungry heart + Much have I seen and known: cities of men, + And manners, climates, councils, governments, + Myself not least, but honour'd of them all." + +Born in India, educated at an English school, circumnavigator of the +globe, he is equally at home in the snows of the Canadian Rockies, or in +the fierce heat east of Suez; in the fogs of the Channel, or under the +Southern Cross at Capetown. Nor is he a mere sojourner on the earth: he +has lived for years in his own house, in England, in Vermont, and in +India, and has had abundant opportunity to compare the climate of +Brattleboro with that of Bombay. + +A born journalist and reporter, his publications first saw the light in +ephemeral Indian sheets. In the late eighties he began to amuse himself +with the composition of squibs of verse, which he printed in the local +newspaper; these became popular, and were cited and sung with +enthusiasm. Emboldened by this first taste of success, he put together a +little volume bound like a Government report; he then sent around reply +post-cards for cash orders, in the fashion already made famous by Walt +Whitman. It is needless to say that copies of this book command a fancy +price to-day. He immediately contracted what Holmes used to call +"lead-poisoning," and the sight of his work in type made a literary +career certain. He produced volume after volume, in both prose and +verse, with amazing rapidity, and his fame overflowed the world. A +London periodical prophesied in 1888, "The book gives hope of a new +literary star of no mean magnitude rising in the East." The amount and +excellence of his output may be judged when we remember that in the +three years from 1886 to 1889 he published _Departmental Ditties_, +_Plain Tales from the Hills_, _Soldiers Three_, _In Black and White_, +_The Story of the Gadsbys_, _The Man Who Would Be King_, _The Phantom +'Rickshaw_, _Wee Willie Winkie_, and other narratives. + +The originality, freshness, and power of all this work made Europe stare +and gasp. For some years he had as much notoriety as reputation. We used +to hear of the Kipling "craze," the Kipling "boom," the Kipling "fad," +and Kipling clubs sprang up like mushrooms. It was difficult to read +him in cool blood, because he was discussed pro and con with so much +passion. He was fashionable, in the manner of ping-pong; and there were +not wanting pessimistic prophets who looked upon him as a comet rather +than a fixed star. So late as 1895 a well-known American journal said of +him: "Rudyard Kipling is supposed to be the cleverest man now handling +the pen. The magazines accept everything he writes, and pay him fabulous +prices. Kipling is now printing a series of Jungle Stories that are so +weak and foolish that we have never been able to read them. They are not +fables: they are stories of animals talking, and they are pointless, so +far as the average reader is able to judge. We have asked a good many +magazine editors about Kipling's Jungle Stories; they all express the +same astonishment that the magazine editors accept them. Kipling will +soon be dropped by the magazine editors; they will inevitably discover +that his stories are not admired by the people. Robert Louis Stevenson +died just in time to save him from the same fate." + +Many honestly believed that Mr. Kipling could write only in flashes; +that he was incapable of producing a complete novel. His answer to this +was _The Light that Failed_, which, although he made the mistake of +giving it a reversible ending, indicated that his own lamp had yet +sufficient oil. In 1895 he added immensely to the solidity of his fame +by printing _The Brushwood Boy_, the scenes of which he announced +previously would be laid in "England, India, and the world of dreams." +Here he temporarily forsook the land of mysterious horror for the land +of mysterious beauty, and many were grateful, and said so. In 1896 the +appearance of _The Seven Seas_ proved beyond cavil that he was something +more than a music-hall rimester--that he was really among the English +poets. The very next year _The Recessional_ stirred the religious +consciousness of the whole English-speaking race. And although much of +his subsequent career seems to be a nullification of the sentiment of +that poem, it will remain imperishable when the absent-minded beggars +and the flannelled fools have reached the oblivion they so richly +deserve. + +In 1897 he tried his hand for the second time at a complete novel, +_Captains Courageous_, and the result might safely be called a success. +The moral of this story will be worth a word or two later on. The next +year an important volume came from his pen, _The Day's Work_--important +because it is in this volume that the new Kipling is first plainly seen, +and the mechanical engineer takes the place of the literary artist. Such +curiosities as _The Ship that Found Herself_, _The Bridge-Builders_, +_.007_, became anything but curiosities in his later work. This +collection was sadly marred by the inclusion of such wretched stuff as +_My Sunday at Home_, and _An Error in the Fourth Dimension_; but it was +glorified by one of the most exquisitely tender and beautiful of all Mr. +Kipling's tales, _William the Conqueror_. And it should not be forgotten +that the author saw fit to close this volume with the previously printed +and universally popular _Brushwood Boy_. Then, at the very height of his +ten years' fame, Mr. Kipling came closer to death than almost any other +individual has safely done. As he lay sick with pneumonia in New York, +the American people, whom he has so frequently ridiculed, were more +generally and profoundly affected than they have been at the bedside of +a dying President. The year 1899 marked the great physical crisis of his +life, and seems also to indicate a turning-point in his literary career. + +Whatever may be thought of the relative merits of Mr. Kipling's early +and later style, it is fortunate for him that the two decades of +composition were not transposed. We all read the early work because we +could not help it; we read his twentieth-century compositions because he +wrote them. It is lucky that the _Plain Tales from the Hills_ preceded +_Puck of Pook's Hill_, and that _The Light that Failed_ came before +_Stalky and Co._ Whether these later productions could have got into +print without the tremendous prestige of their author's name, is a +question that has all the fascination and all the insolubility of +speculative philosophy. The suddenness of his early popularity may be +perhaps partly accounted for by the fact that he was working a new +field. The two authors who have most influenced Mr. Kipling's style are +both Americans--Bret Harte and Mark Twain; and the analogy between the +sudden fame of Harte and the sudden fame of Mr. Kipling is too obvious +to escape notice. Bret Harte found in California ore of a different kind +than his maddened contemporaries sought; his early tales had all the +charm of something new and strange. What Bret Harte made out of +California Mr. Kipling made out of India; at the beginning he was a +"sectional writer," who, with the instinct of genius, made his literary +opportunity out of his environment. The material was at hand, the time +was ripe, and the man was on the spot. It was the strong "local colour" +in these powerful Indian tales that captivated readers--who, in far-away +centres of culture and comfort, delighted to read of primitive passions +in savage surroundings. We had all the rest and change of air that we +could have obtained in a journey to the Orient, without any of the +expense, discomfort, and peril. + +But after the spell of the wizard's imagination has left us, we cannot +help asking, after the manner of the small boy, Is it true? Are these +pictures of English and native life in India faithful reflexions of +fact? Can we depend on Mr. Kipling for India, as we can depend (let us +say) on Daudet for a picture of the _Rue de la Paix_? Now it is a +notable fact that local colour seems most genuine to those who are +unable to verify it. It is a melancholy truth that the community +portrayed by a novelist not only almost invariably deny the likeness of +the portrait, but that they emphatically resent the liberty taken. +Stories of college life are laughed to scorn by the young gentlemen +described therein, no matter how fine the local colour may seem to +outsiders. The same is true of social strata in society, of provincial +towns, and Heaven only knows what the Slums would say to their depiction +in novels, if only the Slums could read. One reason for this is that a +novel or a short story must have a beginning and an end, and some kind +of a plot; whereas life has no such thing, nor anything remotely +resembling it. When honest people see their daily lives, made up of +thousands of unrelated incidents, served up to remote readers in the +form of an orderly progression of events, leading up to a proper climax, +the whole thing seems monstrously unreal and untrue. "Why, we are not in +the least like that!" they cry. And I have purposely omitted the factor +of exaggeration, absolutely essential to the realistic novelist or +playwright. + +In a notice of the _Plain Tales from the Hills_, the London _Saturday +Review_ remarked, "Mr. Kipling knows and appreciates the English in +India." But it is more interesting and profitable to see how his stories +were regarded in the country he described. In the _Calcutta Times_, for +14 September, 1895, there was a long editorial which is valuable, at any +rate, for the point of view. After mentioning the _Plain Tales_, +_Soldiers Three_, _Barrack-room Ballads_, etc., the _Times_ critic +said:-- + + "Except in a few instances which might easily be numbered on the + fingers of one hand, nothing in the books we have named is at all + likely to live or deserves to live.... It will probably be answered + that this sweeping condemnation is not of much value against the + emphatic approval of the British public and the aforesaid chorus of + critics in praise of the new Genius.... And the English critics + have this to plead in excuse of their hyperbolical appreciation of + the Stronger Dickens, that his first work came to them fathered + with responsible guarantee from men who should have known better, + that it was in the way of a revelation of Anglo-Indian society, + a-letting in the light of truth on places which had been very dark + indeed. + + "Now the average English critic knows very little of the + intricacies of social life in India, and in the enthusiasm which + Mrs. Hauksbee and kindred creations inspired he accepted too + readily as true types what are, in fact, caricatures, or distorted + presentments, of some of the more poisonous social characteristics + to be found in Anglo-Indian as well as in every other civilised + society.... Do not let us be understood as recklessly running down + Kipling and all his works.... He possesses in a high degree the + power of describing a certain class of emotions, and the flights of + his imagination in some directions are extremely bold and original. + In such tales, for instance, as 'The Man who would be a King' + (_sic_) and 'The Ride of Morrowby Jukes' (_sic_) there are + qualities of the imagination which equal, if they do not surpass, + anything in the same line with which we are acquainted.... The + capital charge, in the opinion of many, the head and front of his + offending, is that he has traduced a whole society, and has spread + libels broadcast. Anglo-Indian society may in some respects be + below the average level of the best society in the Western world, + where the rush and stir of life and the collision of intellects + combine to keep the atmosphere clearer and more bracing than in + this land of tennis, office boxes, frontier wars, and enervation. + But as far as it falls below what many would wish it to be, so far + it rises above the description of it which now passes current at + home under the sanction of Kipling's name.... For whether Kipling + is treating of Indian subjects pure and simple, of Anglo-Indian + subjects, or is attempting a Western theme, the personality of the + writer is pervasive and intrusive everywhere, with all its + limitations of vision and information, as well as with its eternal + panoply of cheap smartness and spiced vulgarity.... Smartness is + always first with him, and Truth may shift for herself." + +Although the writer of the above article is somewhat blinded by +prejudice and wrath, it is, nevertheless, interesting testimony from the +particular section of our planet which Mr. Kipling was at that time +supposed to know best. And out in San Francisco they are still talking +of Mr. Kipling's visit there, and the "abominable libel" of California +life and customs he chose to publish in _From Sea to Sea_. + +Apart from Mr. Kipling's good fortune in having fresh material to deal +with, the success of his early work lay chiefly in its dominant +quality--Force. For the last thirty years, the world has been full of +literary experts, professional story-writers, to whom the pen is a means +of livelihood. Our magazines are crowded with tales which are well +written, and nothing else. They say nothing, because their writers have +nothing to say. The impression left on the mind by the great majority of +handsomely bound novels is like that of a man who beholds his natural +face in a glass. The thing we miss is the thing we unconsciously +demand--Vitality. In the rare instances where vitality is the +ground-quality, readers forgive all kinds of excrescences and defects, +as they did twenty years ago in Mr. Kipling, and later, for example, in +Jack London. The original vigour and strength of Mr. Kipling's stories +were to the jaded reader a keen, refreshing breeze; like Marlowe in +Elizabethan days he seemed a towering, robust, masculine personality, +who had at his command an inexhaustible supply of material absolutely +new. This undoubted vigour was naturally unaccompanied by moderation and +good taste; Mr. Kipling's sins against artistic proportion and the law +of subtle suggestion were black indeed. He simply had no reserve. In +_The Man Who Would Be King_, which I have always regarded as his +masterpiece, the subject was so big that no reserve in handling it was +necessary. The whole thing was an inspiration, of imagination all +compact. But in many other instances his style was altogether too loud +for his subject. One wearies of eternal fortissimo. Many of his tales +should have been printed throughout in italics. In examples of this +nature, which are all too frequent in the "Complete Works" of Mr. +Kipling, the tragedy becomes melodrama; the humour becomes buffoonery; +the picturesque becomes bizarre; the terrible becomes horrible; and +vulgarity reigns supreme. + +He is far better in depicting action than in portraying character. This +is one reason why his short stories are better than his novels. In _The +Light that Failed_, with all its merits, he never realised the character +of Maisie; but in his tales of violent action, we feel the vividness of +the scene, time and again. His work here is effective, because Mr. +Kipling has an acute sense of the value of words, just as a great +musician has a correct ear for the value of pitch. When one takes the +trouble to analyse his style in his most striking passages, it all comes +down to skill in the use of the specific word--the word that makes the +picture clear, sometimes intolerably clear. Look at the nouns and +adjectives in this selection from _The Drums of the Fore and Aft_: + + "They then selected their men, and slew them with deep gasps and + short hacking coughs, and groanings of leather belts against + strained bodies, and realised for the first time that an Afghan + attacked is far less formidable than an Afghan attacking; which + fact old soldiers might have told them. + + "But they had no old soldiers in their ranks." + +There are two defects in Mr. Kipling's earlier work that might perhaps +be classed as moral deficiencies. One is the almost ever present +coarseness, which the author mistook for vigour. Now the tendency to +coarseness is inseparable from force, and needs to be held in check. +Coarseness is the inevitable excrescence of superabundant vitality, just +as effeminacy is the danger limit of delicacy and refinement. Swift and +Rabelais had the coarseness of a robust English sailor; at their worst +they are simply abominable, just as Tennyson at his worst is effeminate +and silly. Mr. Kipling has that natural delight in coarseness that all +strong natures have, whether they are willing to admit it or not. A +large proportion of his scenes of humour are devoted to drunkenness: +"gloriously drunk" is a favourite phrase with him. The time may come +when this sort of humour will be obsolete. We laugh at drunkenness, as +the Elizabethans laughed at insanity, but we are only somewhat nearer +real civilisation than they. At any rate, even those who delight in +scenes of intoxication must find the theme rather overworked in Mr. +Kipling. This same defect in him leads to indulgence in his passion for +ghastly detail. This is where he ceases to be a man of letters, and +becomes downright journalistic. It is easier to excite momentary +attention by physical horror than by any other device; and Mr. Kipling +is determined to leave nothing to the imagination. Many instances might +be cited; we need only recall the gouging out of a man's eye in _The +Light that Failed_, and the human brains on the boot in _Badalia +Herodsfoot_. + +The other moral defect in this early work was its world-weary cynicism, +which was simply foolish in so young a writer. His treatment of women, +for example, compares unfavourably with that shown in the frankest tales +of Bret Harte. His attitude toward women in these youthful books has +been well described as "disillusioned gallantry." The author continually +gives the reader a "knowing wink," which, after a time, gets on one's +nerves. These books, after all, were probably not meant for women to +read, and perhaps no one was more surprised than Mr. Kipling himself at +the rapturous exclamations of the thousands of his feminine adorers. A +woman rejoicing in the perusal of these Indian tales seems as much out +of place as she does in the office of a cheap country hotel, reeking +with the fumes of whiskey and stale tobacco, and adorned with men who +spit with astonishing accuracy into distant receptacles. + +Mr. Kipling doubtless knows more about his own faults than any of the +critics; and if after one has read _The Light that Failed_ for the sake +of the story, one rereads it attentively as an _Apologia Pro Vita Sua_, +one will be surprised to see how many ideas about his art he has put +into the mouth of Dick. "Under any circumstances, remember, four-fifths +of everybody's work must be bad. But the remnant is worth the trouble +for its own sake." "One must do something always. You hang your canvas +up in a palm-tree and let the parrots criticise." "If we sit down +quietly to work out notions that are sent to us, we may or we may not do +something that isn't bad. A great deal depends on being master of the +bricks and mortar of the trade. But the instant we begin to think about +success and the effect of our work--to play with one eye on the +gallery--we lose power and touch and everything else.... I was told that +all the world was interested in my work, and everybody at Kami's talked +turpentine, and I honestly believed that the world needed elevating and +influencing, and all manner of impertinences, by my brushes. By Jove, I +actually believed that!... And when it's done it's such a tiny thing, +and the world's so big, and all but a millionth part of it doesn't +care." + +Fortunately, four-fifths of Kipling's work isn't bad. We are safe in +ascribing genius to the man who wrote _The Phantom 'Rickshaw_, _The +Strange Ride_, _The Man Who Would Be King_, _William the Conqueror_, +_The Brushwood Boy_, and _The Jungle Book_. These, and many other tales, +to say nothing of his poetry, constitute an astounding achievement for a +writer under thirty-five. + +But the Kipling of the last ten years is an Imperialist and a Mechanic, +rather than a literary man. We need not classify _Stalky and Co._, +except to say that it is probably the worst novel ever written by a man +of genius. It is on a false pitch throughout, and the most rasping book +of recent times. The only good things in it are the quotations from +Browning. The Jingo in Mr. Kipling was released by the outbreak of the +South African War, and the author of _The Recessional_ forgot everything +he had prayed God to remember. He became the voice of the British +Empire, and the man who had always ridiculed Americans for bunkum +oratory, out-screamed us all. In this imperialistic verse and prose +there is not much literature, but there is a great deal of noise, which +has occasionally deceived the public; just as an orator is sure of a +round of applause if his peroration is shouted at the top of his voice. +His recent book, _Puck of Pook's Hill_, is written against the grain; +painful effort has supplied the place of the old inspiration, and the +simplicity of true art is conspicuous by its absence. Of this volume, +_The Athenaeum_, in general friendly to Kipling, remarks: "In his new +part--the missionary of empire--Mr. Kipling is living the strenuous +life. He has frankly abandoned story-telling, and is using his complete +and powerful armory in the interest of patriotic zeal." On the other +hand, Mr. Owen Wister, whose opinion is valuable, thinks _Puck_ "the +highest plane that he has ever reached"--a judgement that I record with +respect, though to me it is incomprehensible. + +Kipling the Mechanic is less useful than an encyclopaedia, and not any +more interesting. A comic paper describes him as "now a technical +expert; at one time a popular writer. This young man was born in India, +came to his promise in America, and lost himself in England. His _Plain +Tales of the Hills_ (_sic_) has been succeeded by _Enigmatical +Expositions from the Dark Valleys_.... Mr. Kipling has declared that the +Americans have never forgiven him for not dying in their country. On the +contrary, they have never forgiven him for not having written anything +better since he was here than he did before. But while there's Kipling, +there's hope." It is to be earnestly hoped that he will cease +describing the machinery of automobiles, ships, locomotives, and flying +air-vessels, and once more look in his heart and write. His worst enemy +is himself. He seems to be in terror lest he should say something +ordinary and commonplace. He has been so praised for his originality and +powerful imagination, that his later books give one the impression of a +man writing in the sweat of his face, with the grim determination to +make every sentence a literary event. Such a tale as _Wireless_ shows +that the zeal for originality has eaten him up. One can feel on every +page the straining for effect, and it is as exhausting to read as it is +to watch a wrestling-match, and not nearly so entertaining. If Mr. +Kipling goes on in the vein of these later years, he may ultimately +survive his reputation, as many a good man has done before him. I should +think even now, when the author of _Puck of Pook's Hill_ turns over the +pages of _The Man Who Would Be King_, he would say with Swift, "Good +God! what a genius I had when I wrote that book!" + +His latest collection of tales, with the significant title, _Actions and +Reactions_, is a particularly welcome volume to those of us who prefer +the nineteenth century Kipling to the twentieth. To be sure, the story +_With the Night Mail_, shows the new mechanical cleverness rather than +the old inspiration; it is both ingenious and ephemeral, and should +have remained within the covers of the magazine where it first appeared. +Furthermore, _A Deal in Cotton_, _The Puzzler_, and _Little Foxes_ are +neither clever nor literary; they are merely irritating, and remind us +of a book we would gladly forget, called _Traffics and Discoveries_. But +the first narrative in this new volume, with the caption, _An Habitation +Enforced_, is one of the most subtle, charming, and altogether +delightful things that Mr. Kipling has ever given us; nor has he ever +brought English and American people in conjunction with so much charity +and good feeling. I do not think he has previously shown greater +psychological power than in this beautiful story. In the second tale, +_Garm--A Hostage_, Mr. Kipling joins the ranks of the dog worshippers; +the exploits of this astonishing canine will please all dog-owners, and +many others as well. Naturally he has to exaggerate; instead of making +his four-footed hero merely intelligent, he makes him noble in reason, +infinite in faculty, in apprehension like a god, the paragon of animals. +But it is a brilliant piece of work. The last story, _The House +Surgeon_, takes us into the world of spirit, whither Mr. Kipling has +successfully conducted his readers before. This mysterious domain seems +to have a constantly increasing attraction for modern realistic writers, +and has enormously enlarged the stock of material for contemporary +novelists. The field is the world, yes; but the world is bigger than it +used to be, bigger than any boundaries indicated by maps or globes. It +would be interesting to speculate just what the influence of all these +transcendental excursions will be on modern fiction as an educational +force. Mr. Kipling apparently writes with sincere conviction, and in a +powerfully impressive manner. The poetic interludes in this volume, like +those in _Puck of Pook's Hill_, show that the author's skill in verse +has not in the least abated; the lines on _The Power of the Dog_ are +simply irresistible. It is safe to say that _Actions and Reactions_ will +react favourably on all unprejudiced readers; and for this relief much +thanks. If one wishes to observe the difference between the inspired and +the ingenious Mr. Kipling, one has only to read this collection straight +through.[16] + +[16] I have not discussed a new collection of Mr. Kipling's stories, +called _Abaft the Funnel_, consisting of reprints of early fugitive +pieces; because there is not the slightest indication that this book is +in any way authorised, or that its publication has the approval of the +man who wrote it. Perhaps an authorised edition of it may now become +necessary. + +Like almost all Anglo-Saxon writers, Mr. Kipling is a moralist, and his +gospel is Work. He believes in the strenuous life as a cure-all. He +apparently does not agree with Goethe that To Be is greater than To Do. +The moral of _Captains Courageous_ is the same moral contained in the +ingenious bee-hive story. The unpardonable sin is Idleness. But +although Work is good for humanity, it is rather limited as an ideal, +and we cannot rate Mr. Kipling very high as a spiritual teacher. God is +not always in the wind, or in the earthquake, or in the fire. The +day-dreams of men like Stevenson and Thackeray sometimes bear more fruit +than the furious energy of Mr. Kipling. + +But the consuming ambition of this man, and his honest desire to do his +best, will, let us hope, spare him the humiliation of being beaten by +his own past. After all, Genius is the rarest article in the world, and +one who undoubtedly has it is far more likely to reach the top of the +hill than he is to take the road to Danger, which leads into a great +wood; or the road to Destruction, which leads into a wide field, full of +dark mountains. + + + + +XII + +"LORNA DOONE" + + +The air of Devon and Somerset is full of literary germs. The best advice +a London hack could give to a Gigadibs would be _Go west, young man_. +The essential thing is to establish a residence south of Bristol, grow +old along with Wessex, and inhale the atmosphere. Thousands of reverent +pilgrims, on foot, on bicycle, and in automobile, are yearly following +the tragic trails of Mr. Hardy's heroines; to a constantly increasing +circle of interested observers, Mr. Eden Phillpotts is making the +topography of Devon clearer than an ordnance map; if Mrs. Willcocks +writes a few more novels like _The Wingless Victory_ and _A Man of +Genius_, we shall soon all be talking about her--just wait and see; and +in the summer season, when soft is the sun, the tops of coaches in North +Devon and Somerset are packed with excited Americans, carrying Lornas +instead of Baedekers. To the book-loving tourists, every inch of this +territory is holy ground. + +Yet the author of our favourite romance was not by birth a Wessex man. +Mr. Richard D. Blackmore (for, like the creator of _Robinson Crusoe_, +his name is not nearly so well known as his work) first "saw the light" +in Berkshire, the year being 1825. But he was exposed to the Wessex +germs at the critical period of boyhood, actually going to Blundell's +School at Tiverton, a small town in the heart of Devonshire, fourteen +miles north of Exeter, at the union of Exe and Lowman rivers. To this +same school he sent John Ridd, as we learn in the second paragraph of +the novel:-- + + "John Ridd, the elder, churchwarden, and overseer, being a great + admirer of learning, and well able to write his name, sent me, his + only son, to be schooled at Tiverton, in the County of Devon. For + the chief boast of that ancient town (next to its woolen staple) is + a worthy grammar-school, the largest in the west of England, + founded and handsomely endowed in the year 1604 by Master Peter + Blundell, of that same place, clothier." + +From this institution young Blackmore proceeded to Exeter College, +Oxford, where he laid the foundations of his English style by taking +high rank in the classics. Like many potential poets and novelists, he +studied law, and was called to the bar in 1852. But he cared little for +the dusty purlieus of the Middle Temple, and not at all for city life: +his father was a country parson, as it is the fashion for English +fathers of men of letters to be, and the young man loved the peace and +quiet of rural scenery. He finally made a home at Teddington, in +Middlesex, and devoted himself to the avocation of fruit-growing. On +this subject he became an authority, and his articles on gardening were +widely read. Here he died in January, 1900. + +His death was mourned by many thousand persons who never saw him, and +who knew nothing about his life. The public always loves the makers of +its favourite books; but in the case of Mr. Blackmore, every reader of +his masterpiece felt a peculiarly intimate relation with the man who +wrote it. The story is so full of the milk of human kindness, its hero +and heroine are so irresistibly attractive, and it radiates so wholesome +and romantic a charm, that one cannot read it without feeling on the +best possible terms with the author--as if both were intimate friends of +long standing. For _Lorna Doone_ is a book we think we have always been +reading; we can hardly recall the time when it had not become a part of +our literary experience; just as it takes an effort to remember that +there were days and years when we were not even aware of the existence +of persons who are now indissolubly close. They have since become so +necessary that we imagine life before we knew them must really have been +more barren than it seemed. + +Like many successful novelists, Mr. Blackmore began his literary career +by the publication of verse, several volumes of poems appearing from +his pen during the years 1854-1860. Although he never entirely abandoned +verse composition, which it was only too apparent that he wrote with his +left hand, the coolness with which his Muse was received may have been a +cause of his attempting the quite different art of the novel. It is +pleasant to remember, however, that in these early years he translated +Vergil's _Georgics_; combining his threefold love of the classics, of +poetry, and of gardening. Of how much practical agricultural value he +found the Mantuan bard, we shall never know. + +Contrary to a common supposition, _Lorna Doone_ was not his first story. +He launched two ventures before his masterpiece--_Clara Vaughan_ in +1864, and _Cradock Nowell_ in 1866. These won no applause, and have not +emerged from the congenial oblivion in which they speedily foundered. +After these false starts, the great book came out in 1869, with no blare +of publisher's trumpet, with scanty notice from the critics, and with no +notice of any kind from the public. In the preface to the twentieth +edition, and his various prefaces are well worth reading, the author +remarked:-- + + "What a lucky maid you are, my Lorna! When first you came from the + Western Moors nobody cared to look at you; the 'leaders of the + public taste' led none of it to make test of you. Having struggled + to the light of day, through obstruction and repulses, for a year + and a half you shivered in a cold corner, without a sun-ray. Your + native land disdained your voice, and America answered, 'No child + of mine'; knowing how small your value was, you were glad to get + your fare paid to any distant colony." + +The _Saturday Review_ for 5 November, 1870, uttered a few patronising +words of praise. The book was called "a work of real excellence," but +the reviewer timidly added, "We do not pretend to rank it with the +acknowledged masterpieces of fiction." On the whole, there is good +ground for gratitude that the public was so slow to see the "real +excellence" of _Lorna_. A sudden blaze of popularity is sometimes so +fierce as to consume its cause. Let us spend a few moments in devout +meditation, while we recall the ashes of "the book of the year." The +gradual dawn of Lorna's fame has assured her of a long and fair day. + +Possibly one of the reasons why this great romance made so small an +impression was because it appeared at an unpropitious time. The sower +sowed the seed; but the thorns of Reade and Trollope sprang up and +choked them. These two novelists were in full action; and they kept the +public busy. Realism was strong in the market; people did not know then, +as we do now, that The _Cloister and the Hearth_ was worth all the rest +of Charles Reade put together. Had _Lorna Doone_ appeared toward the +end of the century, when the Romantic Revival was in full swing, it +would have received a royal welcome. But how many would have recognised +its superiority to the tinsel stuff of those recent days, full of +galvanised knights and stuffed chatelaines? For _Lorna_ belongs to a +class of fiction with which we were flooded in the nineties, though, +compared with the ordinary representative of its kind, it is as a star +to a glow-worm. Readers then enjoyed impossible characters, whose talk +was mainly of "gramercy" and similar curiosities, for they had the +opportunity to "revel in the glamour of a bogus antiquity." But an +abundance of counterfeits does not lower the value of the real metal; +and _Lorna_ is a genuine coin struck from the mint of historical +romance. In the original preface its author modestly said:-- + + "This work is called a 'romance,' because the incidents, + characters, time, and scenery are alike romantic. And in shaping + this old tale, the writer neither dares, nor desires, to claim for + it the dignity or cumber it with the difficulty of an historic + novel." + +In warmth and colour, in correct visualisation, and in successful +imitation of the prose of a bygone day (which no one has ever perfectly +accomplished), it ranks not very far below the greatest of all English +historical romances, _Henry Esmond_. + +_Lorna Doone_ is practically one more illustration of Single-Speech +Hamilton. After its appearance, its author wrote and published steadily +for thirty years; but the fact remains that not only is _Lorna_ his +best-known work, but that his entire reputation hangs upon it. Many of +his other stories are good, notably _Cripps the Carrier_ and +_Perlycross_; the latter has a most ingenious plot; but these two now +peacefully repose with their mates in undisturbed slumber at dusty +library corners. They had an initial sale because they came from the +hand that created _Lorna_; then they were lost in the welter of +ephemeral literature. Mr. Blackmore offered his buyers all sorts of +wares, but, after a momentary examination, they declined what was "just +as good," and returned to their favourite, which, by the way, was never +his; he ranked it third among his productions. + +For this novel is not only one of the best-loved books in English +fiction, and stands magnificently the severe test of rereading, it is +bound to have even more admirers in the future than it has ever yet +enjoyed; it is visibly growing in reputation every year. It may be +interesting to analyse some of its elements, in order to understand what +has given it so assured a place. The main plot is simplicity itself. It +is a history, however, that the world has always found entertaining, the +history of the love of a strong man for a beautiful girl. They meet, he +falls in love, he rescues her from peril, she goes up to London, becomes +a great lady, returns, is dangerously wounded on her wedding-day, +recovers, and they live happily for ever after--_voila tout_. A very +simple plot, yet the telling fills two stout volumes, with the reader's +interest maintained from first to last. + +It is told in the first person--the approved method of the historical +romance. Professor Raleigh has admirably pointed out the virtues and +defects of the three ways of composing a novel,--direct discourse by the +chief actor, the exclusive employment of letters, and the "invisible and +omniscient" impersonal author.[17] It is interesting to note, in +passing, that our first English novelist, Defoe, adopted the first +method; Richardson, our second novelist, took the second; and Fielding, +our third novelist, took the third. Now, the great advantage of having +John Ridd speak throughout is the gain in reality and vividness; it is +as though we sat with him in the ingle, and obtained all our information +at first hand. What is lost by narrowness of experience is made up in +intensity; we follow him breathlessly, as Desdemona followed Othello, +and he has every moment our burning sympathy. We participate more fully +in his joys and sorrows, in the agony of his suspense; we share his +final triumph. He is talking directly to us, and John Ridd is a good +talker. He is the kind of man who appeals to all classes of listeners. +He has the gentleness and modesty that are so becoming to great physical +strength; the love of children, animals, and all helpless creatures; +reverence for God, purity of heart, and a noble slowness to wrath. Such +a man is simply irresistible, and we are sorry when he finishes his +tale. The defect in this method of narration, which Mr. Blackmore has +employed with such success, is the inevitable defect in all stories +written in this manner, as Professor Raleigh has observed: "It takes +from the novelist the privilege of killing his hero." When John Ridd is +securely bound, and the guns of hostile soldiers are levelled at his +huge bulk, with their fingers actually on the triggers, we laugh at +ourselves for our high-beating hearts; for of course he is unkillable, +else how could he be talking at this very moment? + +[17] _The English Novel_, Chapter VI. + +The plot of _Lorna Doone_, which, as we have observed, is very simple, +is, nevertheless, skilfully complicated. It is not a surprise plot, like +that of _A Pair of Blue Eyes_; we are not stunned by the last page. It +is a suspense plot; we have a well-founded hope that all will come right +in the end, and yet the author has introduced enough disturbing elements +to put us occasionally in a maze. This artistic suspense is attained +partly by the method of direct discourse; which, at the same time, +develops the character of the hero. Big John repeats incidents, dwells +lengthily on minute particulars, stops to enjoy the scenery, and makes +mountains of stories out of molehills of fact. The second complication +of the plot arises from the introduction of characters that apparently +divert the course of the story without really doing so. There are +nineteen important characters, all held well in hand; and a conspicuous +example of a complicating personage is little Ruth Huckaback. She +interferes in the main plot in an exceedingly clever way. The absorbing +question in every reader's mind is, of course, Will John marry Lorna? +Now Ruth's interviews with the hero are so skilfully managed, and with +such intervals of time between, that on some pages she seems destined to +be his bride. And, admirably drawn as her character is, when her +artistic purpose in the plot is fully accomplished, she quietly fades +out, with the significant tribute, "Ruth Huckaback is not married yet." + +There is also a subsidiary plot, dovetailed neatly into the main +building. This is the story of the attractive highwayman, Tom Faggus, +and his love for John's sister, Annie. Many pages are taken up with the +adventures of this gentleman, who enters the novel on horseback (what a +horse!) at the moment when the old drake is fighting for his life. +Besides our interest in Tom himself, in his wild adventures, and in his +reformation, we are interested in the conflict of his two passions, one +for the bottle, and one for Annie, and we wonder which will win. This +subsidiary love story is still further complicated by the introduction +of young De Whichehalse; and in the struggle between John Ridd and the +Doones, both Tom Faggus and the De Whichehalse family play important +parts. It is interesting, too, to observe how events that seem at the +time to be of no particular importance, turn out later to be highly +significant; when, at the very beginning of the long story, the little +boy, on his way home from school, meets the lady's maid, and shortly +after sees the child borne away on the robber's saddle, we imagine all +this is put in to enliven the journey, that it is just "detail"; long +afterwards we find the artistic motive. In fact, one of the most notable +virtues of this admirable plot is the constant introduction of matters +apparently irrelevant and due to mere garrulity, such as the uncanny +sound, for example, which prove after all to be essential to the course +of the narrative. + +As for the characters, they impress us differently in different moods. +For all John Ridd's prodigious strength, marvellous escapes, and +astounding feats, his personality is so intensely human that he seems +real. His _soul_, at any rate, is genuine, and wholly natural; his +bodily activity--the extraction of Carver's biceps, the wrenching of +the branch from the tree, the hurling of the cannon through the +door--makes him a dim giant in a fairy story. When we think of the +qualities of his mind and heart, he comes quite close; when we think of +his physical prowess, he almost vanishes in the land of Fable. I +remember the comment of an undergraduate--"John Ridd is as remote as +Achilles; he is like a Greek myth." + +The women are all well drawn and individualised--except the heroine. I +venture to say that no one has ever seen Lorna in his mind's eye. She is +like a plate that will not develop. A very pretty girl with an +affectionate disposition,--what more can be said? But so long as a Queen +has beauty and dignity, she does not need to be interesting; and Lorna +is the queen of this romance. John's mother and his two sisters are as +like and unlike as members of the same family ought to be; they are real +women. Ruth Huckaback and Gwenny Carfax are great additions to our +literary acquaintances; each would make an excellent heroine for a +realistic novel. They have the indescribable puzzling characteristics +that we call feminine; sudden caprices, flashes of unexpected jealousy, +deep loyal tenderness, unlimited capacity for self-sacrifice, and in the +last analysis, Mystery. + +The humour of the story is spontaneous, and of great variety, running +from broad mirth to whimsical subtlety. The first concerted attack on +the Doones is comic opera burlesque; but the scenes of humour that +delight us most are those describing friendly relations with beast and +bird. The eye of the old drake, as he stared wildly from his precarious +position, and the delight of the ducks as they welcomed his rescue; +above all, Annie's care of the wild birds in the bitter cold. + + "There was not a bird but knew her well, after one day of + comforting; and some would come to her hand, and sit, and shut one + eye, and look at her. Then she used to stroke their heads, and feel + their breasts, and talk to them; and not a bird of them all was + there but liked to have it done to him. And I do believe they would + eat from her hand things unnatural to them, lest she should be + grieved and hurt by not knowing what to do for them. One of them + was a noble bird, such as I had never seen before, of very fine + bright plumage, and larger than a missel-thrush. He was the hardest + of all to please; and yet he tried to do his best." + +Whatever may be the merits of Mr. Blackmore's published verse, there is +more poetry in _Lorna Doone_ than in many volumes of formal rime. The +wonderful descriptions of the country in shade and shine, in fog and +drought, the pictures of the sunrise and the falling water, the +"tumultuous privacy" of the snow-storms,--these are all descriptive +poems. Every reader has noticed the peculiar rhythm of the style, and +wondered if it were intentional. Hundreds of sentences here and there +are perfect English hexameters; one can find them by opening the book at +random, and reading aloud. But this peculiar element in the style goes +much farther than isolated phrases. There are solid passages of steady +rhythm, which might correctly be printed in verse form.[18] + +[18] A writer in the _Atlantic Monthly_ notes especially the closing +paragraph of Chapter XXVIII, and parts of Chapter XXIX. + +Mr. Blackmore's personal character was so modest, unassuming, and +lovable, that it is not difficult to guess the source of the purity, +sweetness, and sincerity of his great book. If he were somewhat +surprised at the utter coldness of its first reception, he never got +over his amazement at the size and extent of its ultimate triumph. In +the preface to the sixth edition, he said:-- + + "Few things have surprised me more, and nothing has more pleased + me, than the great success of this simple tale.... Therefore any + son of Devon may imagine, and will not grudge, the writer's delight + at hearing from a recent visitor to the west, that '_Lorna Doone_, + to a Devonshire man, is as good as clotted cream, almost!' + + "Although not half so good as that, it has entered many a tranquil, + happy, pure, and hospitable home; and the author, while deeply + grateful for this genial reception, ascribes it partly to the fact + that his story contains no word or thought disloyal to its + birthright in the fairest county of England." + +Mr. Blackmore lived long enough to see an entirely different kind of +"local colour" become conventional, where many a novelist, portraying +his native town or the community in which he dwelt, emphasised with what +skill he could command all its poverty, squalor, and meanness; the +disgusting vices and malignant selfishness of its inhabitants; and after +he had thus fouled his nest by representing it as a mass of filth, +degradation, and sin, he imagined he had created a work of art. The +author of _Lorna Doone_ had the satisfaction of knowing that he had +inspired hundreds of thousands of readers with the love of his favourite +west country, and with an intense desire to visit it. And being, like +John Ridd, of a forgiving nature, he forgave America for its early +neglect of his story; for being informed of the supremacy of _Lorna +Doone_ in the hearts of American undergraduates, he remarked, in a +letter to the present writer, "The good word of the young, who are at +once the most intelligent and the most highly educated of a vast +intellectual nation, augurs well for the continuance--at least for a +generation--of my fortunate production." + + + + +APPENDIX A + +NOVELS AS A UNIVERSITY STUDY + + +Some fourteen years ago, in the pamphlet of elective courses of study +open to the senior and junior classes of Yale College, I announced a new +course called "Modern Novels." The course and its teacher immediately +became the object of newspaper notoriety, which spells academic +damnation. From every State in the Union long newspaper clippings were +sent to me, in which my harmless little pedagogical scheme was +discussed--often under enormous headlines--as a revolutionary idea. It +was praised by some, denounced by others, but thoroughly advertised, so +that, for many months, I received letters from all parts of the Western +Hemisphere, asking for the list of novels read and the method pursued in +studying them. During six months these letters averaged three a day, and +they came from the north, south, east, and west, from Alaska, Hawaii, +Central and South America. The dust raised by all this hubbub crossed +the Atlantic. The course was gravely condemned in a column editorial in +the London _Daily Telegraph_, and finally received the crowning honour +of a parody in _Punch_. + +Things have changed somewhat in the last ten years, and although I have +never repeated my one year's experiment, I believe that it would be +perfectly safe to do so. Not only does the production of new novels +continue at constantly accelerating speed, but critical books on the +novel have begun to increase and multiply in all directions. At least +twenty such works now stand on my shelves, the latest of which (by +Selden L. Whitcomb) is frankly called "The Study of a Novel," and boldly +begins: "This volume is the result of practical experience in teaching +the novel, and its aim is primarily pedagogical." + +The objections usually formulated against novels as a university study +are about as follows: (_a_) the study of fiction is unacademic--that is, +lacking in dignity; (_b_) students will read too many novels anyway, and +the emphasis should therefore be thrown on other forms of literary art; +(_c_) most recent and contemporary fiction is worthless, and if novels +are to be taught at all, the titles selected should be confined entirely +to recognised classics; (_d_) many of the novels of to-day are immoral, +and the reading of them will corrupt rather than develop adolescent +minds; (_e_) they are too "easy," too interesting, and a course confined +to them is totally lacking in mental discipline. These objections, each +and all, contain some truth, and demand a serious answer. + +That the study of fiction is unacademic is a weighty argument, but its +weight is the mass of custom and prejudice rather than solid thought. In +old times, the curriculum had little to do with real life, so that the +most scholarly professors and the most promising pupils were often +plentifully lacking in common sense. Students gifted with real +independence of mind, marked with an alert interest in the life and +thought about them, chafed irritably under the old-fashioned course of +study, and often treated it with neglect or open rebellion. What Thomas +Gray said of the Cambridge curriculum constitutes a true indictment +against eighteenth-century universities; and it was not until very +recent times that such studies as history, European literature, modern +languages, political economy, natural sciences, and the fine arts were +thought to have equal academic dignity with the trinity of Latin, Greek, +and mathematics. There are, indeed, many able and conscientious men who +still believe that this trinity cannot be successfully rivalled by any +other possible group of studies. Now the novel is the most prominent +form of modern literary art; and if modern literature is to be studied +at all, fiction cannot be overlooked. The profound change brought about +in university curricula, caused largely by the elective system, is +simply the bringing of college courses of study into closer contact +with human life, and the recognition that what young men need is a +general preparation to live a life of active usefulness in modern social +relations. + +That students read too many novels anyway--that is, in proportion to +their reading in history and biography--is probably true. But the +primary object of a course in novel-reading is not to make the student +read more novels, instead of less, nor to substitute the reading of +fiction for the reading of other books. The real object is (after a +cheerful recognition of the fact that he will read novels anyway) to +persuade him to read them intelligently, to observe the difference +between good novels and bad, and so to become impatient and disgusted +with cheap, sensational, and counterfeit specimens of the novelist's +art. + + "The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's, + Is--not to fancy what were fair in life + Provided it could be--but, finding first + What may be, then find how to make it fair + Up to our means: a very different thing! + No abstract intellectual plan of life + Quite irrespective of life's plainest laws, + But one, a man, who is man and nothing more, + May lead within a world which (by your leave) + Is Rome or London, not Fool's Paradise." + +That much of contemporary fiction is worthless, and that the novels +selected should be classics, is a twofold statement, of which the first +phrase is true and the second a _non sequitur_. Much ancient and +mediaeval literature read in college is worthless in itself; it is read +because it illustrates the language, or represents some literary form, +or because it throws light on the customs and ideas of the time. The +fact that a certain obscure work was written in the year 1200 does not +necessarily prove that it is more valuable for study than one written in +1909. Now it so happens that the modern novel has become more and more +the mirror of modern ideas; and for a student who really wishes to know +what people are thinking about all over the world to-day, the novels of +Tolstoi, Bjoernson, Sudermann, and Thomas Hardy cannot wisely be +neglected. Why should the study of the contemporary novel and the +contemporary drama be tabooed when in other departments of research the +aim is to be as contemporary as possible? We have courses in social +conditions that actually investigate slums. I am not for a moment +pleading that the study of modern novels and modern art should supplant +the study of immortal masterpieces; but merely that they should have +their rightful place, and not be regarded either with contempt or as +unworthy of serious treatment. The two most beneficial ways to study a +novel are to regard it, first, as an art-form, and secondly as a +manifestation of intellectual life; from neither point of view should +the contemporary novel be wholly neglected. + +That many of the novels of to-day are immoral is true, but it is still +more true of the classics. The proportion of really immoral books to the +total production is probably less to-day than it ever was before; in +fact, there are an immense number of excellent contemporary novels which +are spotless, something that cannot be said of the classics of antiquity +or of the great majority of literary works published prior to the +nineteenth century. If immorality be the cry, what shall we say about +Aristophanes or Ovid? How does the case stand with the comedies of +Dryden or with the novels of Henry Fielding? No, it is undoubtedly true +that the teacher who handles modern fiction can more easily find a +combination of literary excellence and purity of tone than he could in +any previous age. + +That a course in novels lacks mental discipline and is too easy depends +mainly on the teacher and his method. As regards the time consumed in +preparation, it is probable that a student would expend three or four +times the number of hours on a course in novels than he would in ancient +languages, where, unfortunately, the use of a translation is all but +universal; and the translation is fatal to mental discipline. But it is +not merely a matter of hours; novels can be taught in such a way as to +produce the best kind of mental discipline, which consists, first, in +compelling a student to do his own thinking, and, secondly, to train him +properly in the expression of what ideas he has. + + + + +APPENDIX B + +THE TEACHER'S ATTITUDE TOWARD CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE + + +Two things must be admitted at the start--first, that no person is +qualified to judge the value of new books who is not well acquainted +with the old ones; second, that the only test of the real greatness of +any book is Time. It is, of course, vain to hope that any remarks made +on contemporary authors will not be misrepresented, but I have placed +two axioms at the beginning of this article in order to clear the +ground. I am not advocating the abandonment of the study of Homer and +Vergil, or proposing to substitute in their stead the study of Hall +Caine, Mrs. Ward, and Marie Corelli. I do not believe that Mr. Pinero is +a greater dramatist than Sophokles, or that the mental discipline gained +by reading _The Jungle_ is equivalent to that obtained in the mastery of +Euclid. + +I am merely pleading that every thoughtful man who is alive in this year +of grace should not attempt to live his whole life in the year 400 B.C., +even though he be so humble an individual as a teacher. The very word +"teacher" means something more than "scholar"; and scholarship means +something more than the knowledge of things that are dead. A good +teacher will remember that the boys and girls who come under his +instruction are not all going to spend their lives in the pursuit of +technical learning. It is his business to influence them; and he cannot +exert a powerful influence without some interest in the life and thought +of his own day, in the environment in which his pupils exist. I believe +that the cardinal error of a divinity-school education is that the +candidate for the ministry spends over half his time and energy in the +laborious study of Hebrew, whereas he should study the subjects that +primarily interest not his colleagues, but his audience. + + "Priests + Should study passion; how else cure mankind, + Who come for help in passionate extremes?" + +A preacher who knows Hebrew, Greek, systematic theology, New Testament +interpretation, and who knows nothing about literature, history, art, +and human nature, is grotesquely unfitted for his noble profession. + +In every age it has been the fashion to ridicule and decry the literary +production of that particular time. I suppose that the greatest creative +period that the world has ever known occurred in England during the +years 1590-1616, and here is what Ben Jonson said in 1607: "Now, +especially in dramatic, or, as they term it, stage-poetry, nothing but +ribaldry, profanation, blasphemy, all license of offence to God and man +is practised. I dare not deny a great part of this, and am sorry I dare +not." In 1610 he wrote, "Thou wert never more fair in the way to be +cozened, than in this age, in poetry, especially in plays; wherein, now +the concupiscence of dances and of antics so reigneth, as to run away +from nature and be afraid of her, is the only point of art that tickles +the spectators." And in 1611 he said, "In so thick and dark an ignorance +as now almost covers the age ... you dare, in these jig-given times, to +countenance a legitimate poem." And the age which he damned is now +regarded as the world's high-water mark! + +A man who teaches physics and chemistry is supposed to be familiar not +only with the history of his subject, but its latest manifestations; +with the work of his contemporaries. A man who teaches political economy +and sociology must read the most recent books on these themes both in +Europe and America--nay, he must read the newspapers and study the +markets, or he will be outstripped by his own pupils. A man who teaches +drawing and painting should not only know the history of art, but its +latest developments. And yet, when the teacher of literature devotes a +small portion of the time of his pupils to the contemplation of +contemporary poets, novelists, and dramatists, he is not only blamed for +doing so, but some teachers who are ignorant of the writers of their own +day boast of their ignorance with true academic pride. + +A teacher cannot read every book that appears; he cannot neglect the +study and teaching of the recognised classics; but his attitude toward +the writers of his own time should not be one of either indifference or +contempt. The teacher of English literature should not be the last man +in the world to discover the name of an author whom all the world is +talking about. And I believe that every great university should offer, +under proper restrictions, at least one course in the contemporary +drama, or in contemporary fiction, or in some form of contemporary +literary art. The Germans are generally regarded as the best scholars in +the world, and they never think it beneath their dignity to recognise +living authors of distinction. While the British public were condemning +in true British fashion an author whom they had not read--Henrik +Ibsen--German universities were offering courses exclusively devoted to +the study of his works. Imagine a course in Ibsen at Oxford! + +But not only should the teacher take an intelligent interest in +contemporary authors who have already won a wide reputation, he should +be eternally watchful, eternally hopeful--ready to detect signs of +promise in the first books of writers whose names are wholly unknown. +This does not mean that he should exaggerate the merits of every fresh +work, nor beslobber with praise every ambitious quill-driver. On the +contrary,--if there be occasion to give an opinion at all,--he should +not hesitate to condemn what seems to him shallow, trivial, or +counterfeit, no matter how big a "seller" the object in his vision may +be. But his sympathies should be warm and keen, and his mind always +responsive, when a new planet swims into his ken. One of the most joyful +experiences of my life came to me some years ago when I read _Bob, Son +of Battle_ with the unknown name Alfred Ollivant on the title-page. It +was worth wading through tons of trash to find such a jewel. + +And is the literature of our generation really slight and mean? By +"Contemporary Literature" we include perhaps authors who have written or +who are writing during the lifetime of those who are now, let us say, +thirty years old. Contemporary literature would then embrace, in the +drama, Ibsen, Bjoernson, Victor Hugo, Henri Becque, Rostand, Maeterlinck, +Sudermann, Hauptmann, Pinero, Jones, and others; in the novel, Turgenev, +Tolstoi, Dostoievsky, Bjoernson, Hugo, Daudet, Zola, Maupassant, Heyse, +Sudermann, Hardy, Meredith, Stevenson, Kipling, Howells, Mark Twain, +and many others; in poetry, to speak of English writers alone, Tennyson, +Browning, Arnold, Swinburne, Morris, Kipling, Phillips, Watson, +Thompson, and others. Those who live one hundred years from now will +know more about the permanent value of the works of these men than we +do; but are these names really of no importance to teachers whose +speciality is literature? + + + + +APPENDIX C + +TWO POEMS + + +It is interesting to compare the two following poems, written by two +distinguished English novelists, both men of fine intelligence, noble +character, and absolute sincerity. Mr. Hardy's poem appeared in the +_Fortnightly Review_, for 1 January, 1907. + + +NEW YEAR'S EVE + +BY THOMAS HARDY + + "I have finished another year," said God, + "In grey, green, white, and brown; + I have strewn the leaf upon the sod, + Sealed up the worm within the clod, + And let the last sun down." + + "And what's the good of it?" I said, + "What reasons made You call + From formless void this earth I tread, + When nine-and-ninety can be read + Why nought should be at all? + + "Yea, Sire; why shaped You us, 'who in + This tabernacle groan'?-- + If ever a joy be found herein, + Such joy no man had wished to win + If he had never known!" + + Then He: "My labours logicless + You may explain; not I: + Sense-sealed I have wrought, without a guess + That I evolved a Consciousness + To ask for reasons why! + + "Strange, that ephemeral creatures who + By my own ordering are, + Should see the shortness of my view, + Use ethic tests I never knew, + Or made provision for!" + + He sank to raptness as of yore, + And opening New Year's Day + Wove it by rote as theretofore, + And went on working evermore + In his unweeting way. + + +DOMINUS ILLUMINATIO MEA + +BY RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE + + 1 + + In the hour of death, after this life's whim, + When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim, + And pain has exhausted every limb-- + The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him. + + 2 + + When the will has forgotten the life-long aim, + And the mind can only disgrace its fame, + And a man is uncertain of his own name, + The power of the Lord shall fill this frame. + + 3 + + When the last sigh is heaved and the last tear shed, + And the coffin is waiting beside the bed, + And the widow and the child forsake the dead, + The angel of the Lord shall lift this head. + + 4 + + For even the purest delight may pall, + The power must fail, and the pride must fall, + And the love of the dearest friends grow small-- + But the glory of the Lord is all in all. + +This poem, with the signature "R. D. B. in memoriam M. F. G." first +appeared in the _University Magazine_ in 1879. Although it has been +included in some anthologies, the author's name was kept an absolute +secret until July, 1909. In the _Athenaeum_ for 3 July, 1909, was printed +an interesting letter from Agnes E. Cook, by which we learn that the +late Mr. Blackmore actually _dreamed_ this poem, in its exact language +and metre. The letter from the author which was published in the same +_Athenaeum_ article, gives the facts connected with this extraordinary +dream. + + + Teddn Jany 5th 1879. + My Dear Sir. + + Having lately been at the funeral of a most dear relation I was + there again (in a dream) last night, and heard the mourners sing + the lines enclosed, which impressed me so that I was able to write + them without change of a word this morning. I never heard or read + them before to my knowledge. They do not look so well on paper as + they sounded; but if you like to print them, here they are. Only + please not to put my name beyond initials or send me money for + them. With all good wishes to Mrs. Cook and yourself + + Very truly yours + R. D. Blackmore. + K Cook Esqre L.L.D. + + + + +LIST OF PUBLICATIONS + +BY ANDREW KEOGH + + +[The twelve authors are in alphabetical order. The books of each are in +chronological order, the assigned dates being those of the publishers' +trade journals in which the fact of publication was first recorded. +Novels originally issued as serials have a note giving the name and date +of the original magazine.] + +BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON + +8 December 1832-- + +[Including only works that have been translated into English.] + + 1857, Sept. 1. Synnoeve Solbakken. Christiania. (_Illustreret + Folkeblad_, 1857.)--Trust and Trial. [A translation by Mary + Howitt.] London, Hurst, Sept. 15, 1858.--Love and Life in Norway. + Tr. by the Hon. Augusta Bethell and A. Plesner. London, Cassell + [1870].--Synnoeve Solbakken. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Boston, + Houghton, 1881.--Synnoeve Solbakken. Given in English by Julie + Sutter. London, Macmillan, 1881. + + 1858. Arne. Bergen, 1858 [1859].--Arne; or, Peasant Life in + Norway. Tr. by a Norwegian. Bergen [1861].--Arne: a Sketch of + Norwegian Country Life. Tr. by A. Plesner and S. Rugely-Powers. + London, Strahan, Aug. 1, 1866.--Arne. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. + Boston, Houghton, 1881.--Arne, and the Fisher Lassie. Tr. with an + introd. by W. Low. London, Bell, 1890. + + 1860. En glad Gut. Christiania. (_Aftenbladet._)--Ovind. Tr. by S. + and E. Hjerleid. London, 1869.--The Happy Boy. Tr. by Helen R. + Gade. Boston, Sever, 1870.--A Happy Boy. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. + Boston, Houghton, 1881.--The Happy Lad, and other Tales. London, + Blackie, 1882. + + 1862. Sigurd Slembe. Copenhagen.--Sigurd Slembe: a Dramatic + Trilogy. Tr. by W. M. Payne. Boston, Houghton, Oct. 20, 1888. + + 1865. De Nygifte. Copenhagen.--The Newly Married Couple. Tr. by S. + and E. Hjerleid. London, Simpkin, 1870. + + 1868, Apr. Fiskerjenten. Copenhagen.--The Fisher-Maiden: a + Norwegian Tale. From the author's German edition by M. E. Niles. + N.Y., Holt, 1869.--The Fishing Girl. Tr. by A. Plesner and F. + Richardson. London, Cassell [1870].--The Fisher Girl. Tr. by S. + and E. Hjerleid. London, Simpkin, 1871 [1870].--The Fisher Maiden. + Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Boston, Houghton, 1882.--Arne and the + Fisher Lassie. Tr. with an introd. by W. Low. London, Bell, 1890. + + 1873. Brude-Slaatten: Fortaelling. Copenhagen.--Life by the Fells + and Fiords. A Norwegian Sketch-book [containing a translation of + the Bridal March]. London, Strahan, 1879.--The Bridal March and + other Stories. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Boston, 1882.--The Wedding + March. Tr. by M. Ford. N.Y., Munro, 1882. + + 1877, Oct. Magnhild: en Fortaelling. Copenhagen.--Magnhild. Tr. by + R. B. Anderson. Boston, Houghton, 1883 [1882]. + + 1879, Aug. Kaptejn Mansana. Copenhagen.--Captain Mansana, and + other Stories. Tr. by R. B. Anderson. Cambridge, Mass., + 1882.--Captain Mansana. N.Y., Munro, 1882.--Captain Mansana, + and Mother's Hands. N.Y., Macmillan, 1897. + + 1883, Sept. En Hanske: Skuespil. Copenhagen.--A Glove: a Prose + Play. (_Poet-Lore_, Jan.-July, 1892.)--A Gauntlet. Tr. by H. L. + Braekstad. London, French [1890].--A Gauntlet. Tr. by Osman + Edwards. London, Longmans, 1894. + + Nov. Over AEvne. Forste Stykke. Copenhagen.--Pastor Sang: being the + Norwegian drama Over AEvne [Part 1]. Tr. by W. Wilson. London, + Longmans, 1893. + + 1884, Oct. Det flager i Byen og pa Havnen. Copenhagen.--The + Heritage of the Kurts. Tr. by C. Fairfax. London, Heinemann, 1892. + + 1887, Aug. Stov. (Originally published in 1882 in I. Hfte _Nyt + Tidsskrift_.)--Magnhild and Dust. N.Y., Macmillan, 1897. + + 1889, Oct. Pa Guds Veje. Copenhagen.--In God's Way. N.Y., Lovell, + 1889.--In God's way: a Novel. Tr. by E. Carmichael. London, + Heinemann, 1890. + + 1895, Dec. Over AEvne. Andet Stykke. Copenhagen. + + 1898, Nov. Paul Lange og Tora Parsberg. Copenhagen.--Tr. by H. L. + Braekstad. London, N.Y., Harper, Feb., 1899. + + 1901, Apr. Laboremus. Copenhagen.--Laboremus. London, Chapman, + June 8, 1901. (First published as literary supplement to the + _Fortnightly Review_, May, 1901.) + + 1906, Oct. Mary: Fortaelling. Copenhagen.--Mary. Tr. by Mary + Morison. N.Y., Macmillan, Sept. 4, 1909. + +In addition to the works listed above, most of the tales and sketches in +Bjoernson's three collections (Smaastykker, Bergen, 1860; Fortaellinger, +Copenhagen, 1872; Nye Fortaellinger, Copenhagen, 1894) have appeared in +English in one or other of the collections listed below:-- + + Life by the Fells and Fiords: a Norwegian Sketch-book. London, Strahan + [1879]. _Contents_: Arne.--The Bridal March.--The Churchyard and the + Railroad.--The Father.--Faithfulness.--Thrond.--Blakken.--A Life's + Enigma.--Checked Imagination.--The Eagle's Nest.--A Dangerous + Wooing.--The Brothers' Quarrel.--The Eagle and the Fir.--Poems. + + Works. American edition, translated by R. B. Anderson. 3 v. Boston, + Houghton, 1884. _Contents_: v. 1. Synnoeve Solbakken.--Arne.--Early + Tales and Sketches: The Railroad and the Churchyard.--Thrond.--A + Dangerous Wooing.--The Bear-Hunter.--The Eagle's Nest.--v. 2. + A Happy Boy.--The Fisher Maiden.--Tales and Sketches: + Blakken.--Fidelity.--A Problem of Life.--v. 3. The Bridal + March.--Captain Mansana.--Magnhild.--Dust. + + Novels. Edited by Edmund Gosse. London, Heinemann; N.Y., Macmillan. + 13 v. 1894-1909. _Contents_: v. 1. Synnoeve Solbakken. Given in + English by Julie Sutter. A new ed.... 1895.--v. 2. Arne. Tr. by + W. Low. 1895.--v. 3. A Happy Boy. Tr. by Mrs. W. Archer. 1896.--v. 4. + The Fisher Lass. 1896.--v. 5. The Bridal March, and One Day. + 1896.--v. 6. Magnhild and Dust. 1897.--v. 7. Captain Mansana, and + Mother's Hands. 1897.--v. 8. Absalom's Hair, and A Painful Memory. + 1898.--v. 9-10. In God's Way. Tr. by E. Carmichael. 1908.--v. 11-12. + The Heritage of the Kurts. Tr. by Cecil Fairfax. 1908.--v. 13. Mary. + Tr. by Mary Morison. 1909. + + +RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE 7 June 1825-20 January 1900 + + 1854, May 1. Poems by Melanter. London, Saunders. July. Epullia, + and other Poems. By the Author of Poems by Melanter. London, Hope. + + 1855, Jan. 16. The Bugle of the Black Sea; or, The British in the + East. By Melanter. London, Hardwicke. + + 1860, Oct. 27. The Fate of Franklin. London, Hardwicke. 1862, July + 31. The Farm and Fruit of Old: a Translation in Verse of the first + and second Georgics of Virgil. By a Market Gardener. London, Low. + + 1864, Mar. 31. Clara Vaughan: a Novel. 3 vols. London, Macmillan. + + 1866, Sept. 1. Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. 3 vols. + London, Chapman. (_Macmillan's Magazine_, May, 1865-Aug., 1866.) + + 1869, Apr. 1. Lorna Doone: a Romance of Exmoor. 3 vols. London, + Low. + + 1871, Apr. 1. The Georgics of Virgil, translated. London, Low. + + 1872, Aug. 2. The Maid of Sker. 3 vols. London, Blackwood. + (_Blackwood's Magazine_, Aug., 1871-July, 1872.) + + 1875, May 1. Alice Lorraine: a Tale of the South Downs. 3 vols. + London, Low. (_Blackwood's Magazine_, Mar., 1874-Apr., 1875.) + + 1876, June 1. Cripps the Carrier: a Woodland Tale. 3 vols. London, + Low. + + 1877, Nov. 16. Erema; or, My Father's Sin. 3 vols. London, Smith, + Elder. (_Cornhill Magazine_, Nov., 1876-Nov., 1877.) + + 1880, May 15. Mary Anerley: a Yorkshire Tale. 3 vols. London, Low. + (_Fraser's Magazine_, July, 1879-Sept., 1880.) + + 1881, Dec. 31. Christowell: a Dartmoor Tale. 3 vols. London, Low. + (_Good Words_, Jan.-Dec., 1881.) + + 1884, May 15. The Remarkable History of Sir Thomas Upmore. 2 vols. + London, Low. + + 1887, Mar. 1. Springhaven: a Tale of the Great War. 3 vols. + London, Low. (_Harper's Magazine_, Apr., 1886-Apr., 1887.) + + 1889, Dec. 31. Kit and Kitty: a Story of West Middlesex. 3 vols. + London, Low, 1890 [1889]. + + 1894, Aug. 25. Perlycross: a Tale of the Western Hills. 3 vols. + London, Low. + + 1895, June 22. Fringilla: Some Tales in Verse. London, Mathews. + + 1896, Mar. 21. Tales from the Telling-House. London, Low. + + 1897, Nov. 27. Dariel: a Romance of Surrey. London, Blackwood. + + +SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS + +30 November 1835- + + 1867, May 1. The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and + other Sketches. Edited by John Paul. N.Y., Amer. News Co. + + 1869, Oct. 1. The Innocents Abroad; or, The New Pilgrim's Progress. + Hartford, American Publ. Co. + + 1871. Mark Twain's Autobiography and First Romance. N.Y., Sheldon. + + 1872, Feb. 29. Roughing it. Hartford, American Publ. Co. + + 1874, Jan. 3. The Gilded Age: a Tale of To-Day. By Mark Twain and + Charles Dudley Warner. Hartford, American Publ. Co. Mark Twain's + Sketches. [No. 1.] N.Y., American News Co. + + 1875. Mark Twain's Sketches, new and old. Now first published in + complete form. Hartford, American Publ. Co. + + 1876, Dec. 23. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Hartford, American + Publ. Co. + + 1877, Sept. 22. A True Story, and The Recent Carnival of Crime. + Boston, Osgood. + + 1878, Mar. 23. Punch, Brothers, Punch! and other Sketches. N.Y., + Slote. + + 1880, July 10. A Tramp Abroad. Hartford, American Publ. Co. + + 1882, Jan. 21. The Prince and the Pauper. Boston, Osgood. + + June 17. The Stolen White Elephant, etc. Boston, Osgood. + + 1883, July 7. Life on the Mississippi. Boston, Osgood. + + 1884, Dec. 31. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer's + Comrade. London, Chatto. (N.Y., Webster, Mar. 14, 1885.) + + 1889, Dec. 28. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court: a + Satire. N.Y., Webster. + + 1892, Apr. 9. Merry Tales. N.Y., Webster. + + 1893, Apr. 29. The L1,000,000 Bank-note, and other new stories. + N.Y., Webster. + + 1894, Mar. 2. The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson, and the comedy + Those Extraordinary Twins. Hartford, American Publ. Co. + + Apr. 15. Tom Sawyer Abroad, by Huck Finn. Edited by Mark Twain. + N.Y., Webster. + + 1896, May 9. Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc. By the Sieur + Louis de Conte (her page and secretary). Freely translated out of + the ancient French into modern English from the original + unpublished manuscript in the National Archives of France, by Jean + Francois Alden. N.Y., Harper. + + 1897, Apr. 3. The American Claimant, and other Stories and + Sketches. N.Y., Harper. + + Apr. 17. How to tell a story, and other Essays. N.Y., Harper. + + 1897, Dec. 11. Following the Equator: a Journey around the World. + Hartford, American Publ. Co. (London, Chatto, under title "More + Tramps Abroad.") + + 1900, June 23. The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg, and other Stories + and Essays. N.Y., Harper. + + 1902, Apr. 19. A Double-barrelled Detective Story. N.Y., Harper. + + 1904, Apr. 16. Extracts from Adam's Diary, translated from the + Original Manuscript. N.Y., Harper. + + Oct. 1. A Dog's Tale. N.Y., Harper. + + 1905, Oct. 7. Editorial Wild Oats. N.Y., Harper. + + Nov. 4. King Leopold's Soliloquy: a Defence of his Congo Rule. + Boston, Warren. + + 1906, June 16. Eve's Diary, translated from the Original + Manuscript. N.Y., Harper. + + Oct. 13. The $30,000 Bequest, and other Stories. N.Y., Harper. + + 1907, Feb. 16. Christian Science, with notes containing corrections + to date. N.Y., Harper. + + Nov. 9. A Horse's Tale. N.Y., Harper. + + 1909, Apr. 17. Is Shakespeare dead? From my Autobiography. N.Y., + Harper. + + Oct. 23. Extract from Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven. N.Y., + Harper. + + +WILLIAM DE MORGAN + +16 November 1839- + + 1906, July 28. Joseph Vance: an ill-written Autobiography. London, + Heinemann. (N.Y., Holt, Sept. 22.) + + 1907, June 15. Alice-for-Short: a Dichronism. N.Y., Holt. (London, + Heinemann, June 29.) + + 1908, Feb. 8. Somehow Good. N.Y., Holt. (London, Heinemann, Feb. + 15.) + + 1909, Nov. 16. It Never Can Happen Again. N.Y., Holt. (London, + Heinemann, 2 v.) + + +THOMAS HARDY + +2 June 1840- + + 1871, Apr. 1. Desperate Remedies: a Novel. 3 vols. London, Tinsley. + + 1872, Dec. 9. Under the Greenwood Tree: a Rural Painting of the + Dutch School. 2 vols. London, Tinsley. + + 1873, June 2. A Pair of Blue Eyes: a Novel. 3 vols. London, + Tinsley. (_Tinsley's Magazine_, Sept., 1872-July, 1873.) + + 1874, Dec. 8. Far from the Madding Crowd. 2 vols. London, Smith, + Elder. (_Cornhill Magazine_, Jan.-Dec., 1874.) + + 1876, Apr. 15. The Hand of Ethelberta: a Comedy in Chapters. 2 + vols. London, Smith, Elder. (_Cornhill Magazine_, July, 1875-May, + 1876.) + + 1878, Nov. 16. The Return of the Native. 3 vols. London, Smith, + Elder. (Belgravia, Jan.-Dec., 1878.) + + 1880, Nov. 1. The Trumpet-Major: a Tale. 3 vols. London, Smith, + Elder. (_Good Words_, Jan.-Dec., 1880.) + + 1881, Dec. 31. A Laodicean; or, The Castle of the De Stancys: a + Story of To-day. 3 vols, London, Low. (_Harper's Magazine_, Jan., + 1881-Jan., 1882.) + + 1882, Nov. 1. Two on a Tower: a Romance. 3 vols. London, Low. + (_Atlantic Monthly_, May-Dec., 1882.) + + 1884, Jan. 25. The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid: a Novel. + N.Y., Munro. (_Graphic_, Summer No. for 1883.) + + 1886, June 1. The Mayor of Casterbridge: the Life and Death of a + Man of Character. 2 vols. London, Smith, Elder. (_Graphic_, Jan. + 2-May 15, 1886.) + + 1887, Apr. 1. The Woodlanders. 3 vols. London, Macmillan. + (_Macmillan's Magazine_, May, 1886-April, 1887.) + + 1888, May 15. Wessex Tales, Strange, Lively, and Commonplace. 2 + vols. London, Macmillan. + + 1891, June 6. A Group of Noble Dames. London, Osgood. (_Graphic_, + Christmas No., 1890.) + + Dec. 12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles: a Pure Woman faithfully + presented. 3 vols. London, Osgood, 1892 [1891]. (_Graphic_, July + 4-Dec. 26, 1891.) + + 1894, Feb. 24. Life's Little Ironies: a Set of Tales. London, + Osgood. + + 1895, Nov. 9. Jude the Obscure. London, Osgood. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Dec., 1894-Nov., 1895. Began as "The Simpletons"; then + changed its title to "Hearts Insurgent.") + + 1897, Mar. 20. The Well-Beloved: A Sketch of a Temperament. London, + Osgood. (The Pursuit of the Well-Beloved, _Illustrated London + News_, Oct.-Dec. 1892.) + + 1898, Dec. 24. Wessex Poems, and Other Verses. London, Harper. + + 1901, Nov. 30. Poems of the Past and the Present. London, Harper. + + 1904, Jan. 23. The Dynasts: a Drama of the Napoleonic Wars. Part 1. + London, Macmillan. + + 1906, Feb. 17. The Dynasts. Part 2. Macmillan. + + 1908, Feb. 22. The Dynasts. Part 3. Macmillan. + + +WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS + +1 March 1837- + + 1860. Poems of Two Friends. By John James Piatt and W. D. Howells. + Columbus, Follett. + + Lives and Speeches of Abraham Lincoln and Hannibal Hamlin. N.Y., + Townsend. [The Biography of Hamlin is by J. L. Hayes.] + + 1866, Aug. 15. Venetian Life. N.Y., Hurd. + + 1867, Dec. 2. Italian Journeys. N.Y., Hurd. + + 1868, Dec. 1. No Love lost: a romance of travel. N.Y. (_Putnam's + Magazine_, Dec., 1868.) + + 1871, Jan. 2. Suburban Sketches. N.Y., Hurd. + + 1872, Jan. 1. Their Wedding Journey. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic + Monthly_, July-Dec., 1871.) + + 1873, May 10. A Chance Acquaintance. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic + Monthly_, Jan.-June, 1873.) + + Sept. 27. Poems. Boston, Osgood. + + 1874, Dec. 5. A Foregone Conclusion. Boston, Osgood, 1875 [1874]. + (_Atlantic Monthly_, July-Dec., 1874.) + + 1876, Feb. 12. A Day's Pleasure. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic + Monthly_, July-Sept., 1870.) + + Sept. 16. Sketch of the Life and Character of Rutherford B. Hayes. + N.Y., Hurd. + + Dec. 9. The Parlor Car: Farce. Boston, Osgood. (_Atlantic Monthly_, + Sept., 1876.) + + 1877, Apr. 28. Out of the Question: a Comedy. Boston, Osgood. + (_Atlantic Monthly_, Feb.-Apr., 1877.) + + Oct. 13. A Counterfeit Presentment: Comedy. Boston, Osgood + (_Atlantic Monthly_, Aug.-Oct., 1877.) + + 1879, Mar. 1. The Lady of the Aroostook. Boston, Houghton. + (_Atlantic Monthly_, Nov., 1878-Mar., 1879.) + + 1880, June 26. The Undiscovered Country. Boston, Houghton. + (_Atlantic Monthly_, Jan.-July, 1880.) + + 1881, Aug. 6. A Fearful Responsibility, and other Stories. Boston, + Osgood. + + Dec. 10. Doctor Breen's Practice: a Novel. Boston, Osgood. + (_Atlantic Monthly_, Aug.-Dec., 1881.) + + 1882, Oct. 14. A Modern Instance: a Novel. Boston, Osgood. + (_Century Magazine_, Dec., 1881-Oct., 1882.) + + 1883, Apr. 28. The Sleeping-Car: a Farce. Boston, Osgood. + (_Harper's Christmas_, Dec., 1882.) + + Sept. 29. A Woman's Reason: a Novel. Boston, Osgood. (_Century_, + Feb.-Oct., 1883.) + + Dec. 22. A Little Girl among the Old Masters, with Introduction and + Comment by W. D. Howells. Boston, Osgood, 1884 [1883]. + + 1884, Mar. 22. The Register: Farce. Boston, Osgood. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Dec., 1884.) + + May 24. Three Villages. Boston, Osgood. Niagara Revisited. Chicago, + Dalziel. (Suppressed.) (_Atlantic Monthly_, May, 1883.) + + 1885, Jan. 31. The Elevator: Farce. Boston, Osgood. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Dec., 1884.) + + Aug. 22. The Rise of Silas Lapham. Boston, Ticknor. (_Century_, + Nov., 1884-Aug., 1885.) + + Nov. 7. Tuscan Cities. Boston, Ticknor, 1886 [1885]. (_Century + Magazine_, Oct., 1885.) + + 1886, Jan. 2. The Garroters: Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Dec., 1885.) + + Feb. 27. Indian Summer. Boston, Ticknor. (_Harper's Magazine_, + July, 1885-Feb., 1886.) + + Dec. 18. The Minister's Charge; or, The Apprentice-ship of Lemuel + Barker. Boston, Ticknor, 1887 [1886]. (_Century Magazine_, + Feb.-Dec., 1886.) + + 1887, Oct. 8. Modern Italian Poets: Essays and Versions. N.Y., + Harper. + + Dec. 17. April Hopes. N.Y., Harper, 1888 [1887]. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Feb.-Nov., 1887.) + + 1888, Aug. 11. A Sea-Change; or, Love's Stowaway: a lyricated + Farce. Boston, Ticknor. (_Harper's Weekly_, July 14, 1888.) + + Dec. 22. Annie Kilburn: a Novel. N.Y., Harper, 1889 [1888]. + (_Harper's Magazine_, June-Nov., 1888.) + + 1889, Apr. 20. The Mouse-Trap, and other Farces. N.Y., Harper. (The + Mouse-Trap, _Harper's Magazine_, Dec., 1886.) + + Dec. 7. A Hazard of New Fortunes: a Novel. N.Y., Harper, 1890 + [1889]. (_Harper's Weekly_, Mar. 23-Nov. 16, 1889.) + + 1890, June 7. The Shadow of a Dream: a Story. NY., Harper. + (_Harper's Magazine_, Mar.-May, 1890.) + + Oct. 18. A Boy's Town, described for _Harper's Young People_. N.Y., + Harper. (_Harper's Young People_, Apr. 8-Aug. 26, 1890.) + + 1891, May 16. Criticism and Fiction. N.Y., Harper. [Selections from + the "Editor's Study" of _Harper's Magazine_.] + + Oct. 17. The Albany Depot. N.Y., Harper, 1892 [1891]. (_Harper's + Weekly_, Dec. 14, 1889.) + + Dec. 5. An Imperative Duty: a Novel. N.Y., Harper, 1892 [1891]. + (_Harper's Magazine_, July-Oct., 1891.) + + 1892, Apr. 9. The Quality of Mercy: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. (_New + York_ (_Sunday_) _Sun._) + + Aug. 6. A Letter of Introduction: Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Jan., 1892.) + + Oct. 8. A Little Swiss Sojourn. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's Magazine_, + Feb.-Mar., 1888.) + + Dec. 17. Christmas Every Day, and other Stories told for Children. + N.Y., Harper, 1893 [1892]. + + 1893, Apr. 1. The World of Chance: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + (_Harper's Magazine_, Mar.-Nov., 1892.) + + May 20. The Unexpected Guests: a Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Jan., 1893.) + + Oct. 14. My Year in a Log Cabin. N.Y., Harper. (_Youth's + Companion_.) + + Nov. 4. Evening Dress: Farce. N.Y., Harper. (_Cosmopolitan + Magazine_, May, 1892.) + + Nov. 11. The Coast of Bohemia: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. (_Ladies' + Home Journal_, Dec., 1892-Oct., 1893.) + + 1894, June 2. A Traveler from Altruria: Romance. N.Y., Harper. + (_Cosmopolitan_, Nov., 1892-Oct., 1893.) + + 1895, June 22. My Literary Passions. N.Y., Harper. (_Ladies' Home + Journal_, Dec., 1892-Oct., 1893.) + + Nov. 2. Stops of Various Quills. N.Y., Harper. (Eleven of the poems + appeared in _Harper's Magazine_, Dec., 1894.) + + 1896, Feb. 22. The Day of their Wedding: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + (_Harper's Bazaar_, Oct. 5-Nov. 16, 1895.) + + Apr. 11. A Parting and a Meeting: Story. N.Y., Harper. + (_Cosmopolitan Magazine_, Dec., 1894.) + + Oct. 31. Impressions and Experiences. N.Y., Harper. + + 1897, Feb. 20. A Previous Engagement: Comedy. N.Y., Harper. + (_Harper's Magazine_, Dec., 1895.) + + Apr. 17. The Landlord at Lion's Head: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + (_Harper's Weekly_, July 4-Dec. 5, 1896.) + + Sept. 11. An Open-Eyed Conspiracy: an Idyl of Saratoga. N.Y., + Harper. (_Century Magazine_, July-Oct., 1896.) + + Dec. 25. Stories of Ohio. N.Y., American Book Co. + + 1898, June 25. The Story of a Play: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + (_Scribner's Magazine_, Mar.-July, 1897.) + + 1899, Feb. 25. Ragged Lady: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + + Dec. 16. Their Silver Wedding Journey. 2 vols. N.Y., Harper. + (_Harper's Magazine_, Jan.-Dec., 1899.) + + 1900, June 2. Bride Roses: a Scene. Boston, Houghton. June 2. Room + Forty-five: a Farce. Boston, Houghton. + + Oct. 6. The Smoking Car: a Farce. Boston, Houghton. + + Oct. 6. An Indian Giver: a Comedy. Boston, Houghton. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Jan., 1897.) + + Dec. 1. Literary Friends and Acquaintance: a Personal Retrospect of + American Authorship. N.Y., Harper. + + 1901, June 1. A Pair of Patient Lovers. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's + Magazine_, Nov., 1897.) + + Nov. 2. Heroines of Fiction. 2 vols. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's + Bazaar_, May 5, 1900-Oct., 1901.) + + 1902, Apr. 26. The Kentons: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + + Oct. 4. The Flight of Pony Baker: a Boy's Town Story. N.Y., Harper. + + Oct. 25. Literature and Life: Studies. N.Y., Harper. + + 1903, June 6. Questionable Shapes. N.Y., Harper. + + Oct. 3. Letters Home. N.Y., Harper. + + 1904, Oct. 15. The Son of Royal Langbrith: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + (_North American Review_, Jan.-Aug., 1904.) + + 1905, June 17. Miss Bellard's Inspiration: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + + Oct. 21. London Films. N.Y., Harper. (_Harper's Magazine_, Dec., + 1904-Mar., 1905.) + + 1906, Nov. 3. Certain delightful English Towns, with Glimpses of + the pleasant country between. N.Y., Harper. + + 1907, Apr. 27. Through the Eye of the Needle: a Romance. N.Y., + Harper. + + June 1. Mulberries in Pay's Garden. Cincinnati, Clarke. + + Nov. 9. Between the Dark and the Daylight: Romances. N.Y., Harper. + + 1908, Mar. 21. Fennel and Rue: a Novel. N.Y., Harper. + + Dec. 12. Roman Holidays, and others. N.Y., Harper. + + 1909, June 12. The Mother and the Father: Dramatic Passages. N.Y., + Harper. (The Mother, in _Harper's Magazine_, Dec., 1902.) + + Nov. 6. Seven English Cities. N.Y., Harper. + + +RUDYARD KIPLING + +30 December 1865- + + 1881. Schoolboy Lyrics. Lahore. (Printed for Private Circulation + only.) + + 1884. Echoes. By Two Writers. Lahore. + + 1885. Quartette. The Christmas Annual of the Civil and Military + Gazette. By four Anglo-Indian Writers. Lahore. + + 1886. Departmental Ditties. Lahore. + + 1888. Plain Tales from the Hills. Calcutta, Thacker. Soldiers + Three: a Collection of Stories. Allahabad, Wheeler. The Story of + the Gadsbys: a Tale without a Plot. Allahabad, Wheeler. In Black + and White. Allahabad, Wheeler. Under the Deodars. Allahabad, + Wheeler. The Phantom 'Rickshaw, and other Tales. Allahabad, + Wheeler. Wee Willie Winkie, and other Child Stories. Allahabad, + Wheeler. + + 1890, Sept. 6. The Courting of Dinah Shadd, and other Stories. + N.Y., Harper. The City of Dreadful Night, and other Sketches. + Allahabad, Wheeler. + + 1891. The Smith Administration. Allahabad, Wheeler. Letters of + Marque. Allahabad, Wheeler. + + Feb. 28. The Light that Failed. London, Macmillan. (_Lippincott's + Magazine_, Jan., 1891.) + + Aug. 15. Life's Handicap: being stories of mine own people. London, + Macmillan. + + 1892, May 21. Barrack-Room Ballads, and other Verses. London, + Methuen. + + July 9. The Naulahka: a Story of West and East. By Rudyard Kipling + and Wolcott Balestier. London, Heinemann. (_Century Magazine_, + Nov., 1891-July, 1892.) + + 1893, June 17. Many Inventions. London, Macmillan. + + 1894, June 2. The Jungle Book. London, Macmillan. + + 1895. Good Hunting. Pp. 16. London, _Pall Mall Gazette_ office. + + Oct. 26. Out of India: Things I saw, and failed to see, on certain + Days and Nights at Jeypore and elsewhere. N.Y., Dillingham. + + Nov. 16. The Second Jungle Book. London, Macmillan. + + 1896, Nov. 7. Soldier Tales. London, Macmillan. + + Nov. 14. The Seven Seas. London, Methuen. + + 1897, Oct. 23. Captains Courageous: a Story of the Grand Banks. + London, Macmillan. + + Dec. 4. An Almanac of Twelve Sports for 1898. By William Nicholson. + With accompanying Rhymes by Rudyard Kipling. London, Heinemann. + White Horses. Pp. 10. London, printed for Private Circulation. + + 1898, May. The Destroyers: a new Poem. Pp. 6. London, Ward. + + Sept. 10. Collectanea: being certain reprinted Verses. Pp. 32. + N.Y., Mansfield. + + Oct. 15. The Day's Work. London, Macmillan. + + Dec. 17. A Fleet in Being: Notes of two Trips with the Channel + Squadron. London, Macmillan. + + 1899, July 1. From Sea to Sea: Letters of Travel. 2 vols. N.Y., + Doubleday. (London, Macmillan, Feb. 24, 1900.) + + Oct. 6. Stalky and Co. London, Macmillan. + + 1901, Oct. 19. Kim. London, Macmillan. + + 1902, Oct. 11. Just So Stories for Little Children. London, + Macmillan. + + 1903, Oct. 10. The Five Nations. London, Methuen. + + 1904, Oct. 15. Traffics and Discoveries. London, Macmillan. + + 1909, Oct. 16. Actions and Reactions. N.Y., Doubleday. + + Oct. 16. Abaft the Funnel. N.Y., Dodge. Cuckoo Song. Pp. 3. N.Y., + Doubleday. + + +ALFRED OLLIVANT + +1874- + + 1898, Oct. 8. Owd Bob, the Grey Dog of Kenmuir. London, Methuen. + (N.Y., Doubleday, Oct. 29, under title "Bob, Son of Battle.") + + 1902, Nov. 15. Danny. N.Y., Doubleday. (London, Murray, Feb. 28, + 1903, under title "Danny: Story of a Dandie Dinmont.") + + 1907, Oct. 5. Redcoat Captain: A Story of That Country. N.Y., + Macmillan. (London, Murray, Oct. 19.) + + 1908, Oct. 17. The Gentleman: A Romance of the Sea. N.Y., + Macmillan. (London, Murray, Oct. 24.) + + +HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + +4 May 1846- + +[Including only works that have been translated into English.] + + 1884, Nov. Ogniem i Mieczem. 4 vols. Warsaw.--With Fire and Sword. + Tr. by Jeremiah Curtin. Boston, Little, Brown & Co., May 17, + 1890.--With Fire and Sword. Tr. by Samuel A. Binion. Phila., Altemus. + + 1886. Potop. 6 vols. Warsaw--The Deluge. Tr. by J. Curtin. 2 vols. + Boston, Little, Dec. 19, 1891. + + 1887-1888. Pan Wolodyjowski. 3 vols. Warsaw.--Pan Michael. Tr. by + J. Curtin. Boston, Little, Dec. 2, 1893.--Pan Michael. Tr. by S. + A. Binion Phila., Altemus [1898]. + + 1891, Feb. Bez Dogmatu. 3 vols. Warsaw.--Without Dogma. Tr. by Iza + Young. Boston, Little, Apr. 15, 1893. + + 1895, Apr. Rodzina Polanieckich. 3 vols. Warsaw.--Children of the + Soil. Tr. by J. Curtin. Boston, Little, June I, 1895.--The Irony + of Life: the Polanetzki Family. Tr. by Nathan M. Babad. N.Y., + Fenno, Apr. 28, 1900. + + 1896, Dec. Quo Vadis. 3 vols. Warsaw.--Quo Vadis. Tr. by J. + Curtin. Boston, Little, Oct. 17, 1896.--Quo Vadis. Tr. by S. A. + Binion and S. Malevsky. Phila., Altemus, Dec. 18, 1897.--Quo + Vadis. Tr. by Wm. E. Smith. N. Y., Ogilvie, 1898. + + 1900, Nov. Krzyzacy. 4 vols. Warsaw.--Knights of the Cross [Part 1 + only]. Tr. by S. C. de Soissons. N.Y., Fenno, 1897.--Knights of + the Cross. Tr. by J. Curtin. 2 vols. Boston, Little, 1900. (Vol. 1, + Jan. 13; Vol. 2, June 9.)--Knights of the Cross. Tr. by S. A. + Binion. 3 vols. N.Y., Fenno, 1900. (Vols. 1-2, Jan. 20; Vol. 3, + Dec. 15.)--Knights of the Cross. A special translation. 2 vols. + N.Y., Street, 1900. (Vol. 1, Apr. 21; Vol. 2, Oct. 6.)--Knights of + the Cross. Tr. by B. Dahl. N.Y., Ogilvie, Dec. 22, 1900. + [Abridged.] Warsaw. + + 1906, July. Na Polu Chwaly. Warsaw.--On the Field of Glory. Tr. by + J. Curtin. Boston, Little, Feb. 3, 1906.--The Field of Glory. Tr. + by Henry Britoff. N.Y., Ogilvie, Apr. 14, 1906.--Field of Glory. + London, Lane, July 21, 1906. + +In addition to the novels listed above, his tales and stories (_Pisma_) +have been collected and published in 41 vols. (Warsaw, 1880-1902.) The +following English translations have been published:-- + + Yanko the Musician, and other Stories. Tr. by J. Curtin. Boston, + Little, Oct. 21, 1893. (_Contents_: Yanko the Musician. The + Light-house Keeper of Aspinwall. From the Diary of a Tutor in + Poznan. Comedy of Errors: a Sketch of American Life. Bartek the + Victor.) + + Lillian Morris, and other Stories. Tr. by J. Curtin. Boston, + Little, Oct. 27, 1894. (_Contents_: Lillian Morris. Sachem. Yamyol. + The Bull-Fight.) + + Let us follow Him, and other Stories. Tr. by Vatslaf A. Hlasko and + Thos. H. Bullick. N.Y., Fenno [copyrighted, 1897]. (_Contents_: Let + us follow Him. Sielanka. Be Blessed. Light in Darkness. Orso. + Memories of Mariposa.) + + Hania. Tr. by J. Curtin. Boston, Little, Dec. 11, 1897. + (_Contents_: Prologue to Hania: The Old Servant. Hania. Tartar + Captivity. Let us follow Him. Be thou Blessed. At the Source. + Charcoal Sketches. The Organist of Ponikla. Lux in Tenebris Lucet. + On the Bright Shore. That Third Woman.) + + So runs the World. Tr. by S. C. de Soissons. London and N.Y., + Neely, Mar. 19, 1898. (_Contents_: Henryk Sienkiewicz. Zola. Whose + Fault? The Verdict. Win or Lose.) + + Sielanka, and other stories. From the Polish by J. Curtin. Boston, + Little, Oct. 29, 1898. (_Contents_: Sielanka: a Forest Picture. For + Bread. Orso. Whose Fault? The Decision of Zeus. On a Single Card. + Yanko the Musician. Bartek the Victor. Across the Plains. From the + Diary of a Tutor in Poznan. The Light-house Keeper of Aspinwall. + Yamyol. The Bull-Fight. Sachem. A Comedy of Errors. A Journey to + Athens. Zola.) + + Let us Follow Him, and other Stories. Tr. by S. C. Slupski and I. + Young. Phila., Altemus [copyrighted, Oct. 24, 1898]. (_Contents_: + Let us follow Him. Be Blessed. Bartek the Conqueror.) + + For Daily Bread, and other Stories. Tr. by Iza Young. Phila., + Altemus [1898]. (_Contents_: For Daily Bread. An Artist's End. A + Comedy of Errors.) + + Tales from Sienkiewicz. Tr. by S. C. de Soissons. London, Allen, + Dec. 23, 1899. (_Contents_: A Country Artist. In Bohemia. A Circus + Hercules. The Decision of Zeus. Anthea. Be Blessed! Whose Fault? + True to his Art. The Duel.) + + Life and Death, and other Legends and Stories. Tr. by J. Curtin. + Boston, Little, Apr. 16, 1904. (_Contents_: Life and Death: a Hindu + Legend. Is He the Dearest One? A Legend of the Sea. The Cranes. The + Judgment of Peter and Paul on Olympus.) + +The following stories have been published separately in English:-- + + Let us follow Him. Tr. by J. Curtin. Boston, Little, Dec. 11, 1897. + + After Bread. Tr. by Vatslaf A. Hlasko and Thos. H. Bullick. N.Y., + Fenno, June 18, 1898.--Peasants in Exile (For Daily Bread). From + the Polish by C. O'Conor-Eccles. Notre Dame, Ind., The Ave Maria + [1898]. + + In the New Promised Land. Tr. by S. C. de Soissons. London, + Jarrold, 1900. + + On the Sunny Shore. Tr. by S. C. de Soissons. N.Y., Fenno. + [1897].--On the Bright Shore. From the Polish by J. Curtin. Boston, + Little, June 18, 1898.--On the Bright Shore. To which is added, + That Third Woman. From the Polish by J. Curtin. Boston, Little, + 1898. + + In Vain. Tr. by J. Curtin. Boston, Little, June 17, 1899. + + The Third Woman. Tr. by Nathan M. Babad. N.Y., Ogilvie, Apr. 23, + 1898. + + The Fate of a Soldier. Tr. by J. C. Bay. N.Y., Ogilvie + [copyrighted, Sept. 3, 1898].--The New Soldier. N.Y., Hurst. + + Hania. Tr. by Vatslaf A. Hlasco and Thos. H. Bullick. N.Y., Fenno. + + In Monte Carlo. Tr. by S. C. de Soissons. London, Greening, Sept. + 16, 1899. + + The Judgment of Peter and Paul on Olympus. To which is added: Be + thou Blessed. Tr. by J. Curtin. Boston, Little, Nov. 3, 1900. + + Dust and Ashes. N.Y., Hurst. + + Her Tragic Fate. N.Y., Hurst. + + Where Worlds Meet. N.Y., Hurst. + + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + +13 November 1850-3 December 1894 + + 1866. The Pentland Rising: a Page of History, 1666. Pp. 22. + Edinburgh, Elliot. + + 1868. The Charity Bazaar: an allegorical Dialogue. Pp. 4. 4o. + Edinburgh. (Privately Printed.) + + 1871. Notice of a New Form of Intermittent Light for Lighthouses. + (From the Transactions of the Royal Scottish Society of Arts, Vol. + 8, 1870-1871.) Edinburgh, Neill. + + 1873. The Thermal Influence of Forests. (From the Proceedings of + the Royal Society of Edinburgh.) Edinburgh, Neill. + + 1875. An Appeal to the Clergy of the Church of Scotland. Edinburgh, + Blackwood. + + 1878, May 16. An Inland Voyage. London, Kegan Paul. + + Dec. 18. Edinburgh. Picturesque Notes. London, Seeley, 1879 [1878]. + (_Portfolio._) + + 1879, June 17. Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes. London, Kegan + Paul. + + 1880. Deacon Brodie; or, The Double Life: a Melodrama founded on + Facts. By W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson. (Privately Printed.) + + 1881, Apr. 16. Virginibus Puerisque, and other Papers. London, + Kegan Paul. + + Not I, and other Poems. Pp. 8. Davos, Osbourne. + + 1882. Moral Emblems: a second collection of Cuts and Verses. Davos, + Osbourne. The Story of a Lie. Pp. 80. Haley and Jackson. + (Suppressed.) + + Mar. 15. Familiar Studies of Men and Books. London, Chatto. + + Aug. 1. New Arabian Nights. 2 vols. London, Chatto. + + 1883, Dec. 6. Treasure Island. London, Cassell. The Silverado + Squatters. London, Chatto. (_Century Magazine_, Nov.-Dec., 1883.) + + 1884. Admiral Guinea. By W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson. + Edinburgh, Clark. (Printed for Private Circulation.) Beau Austin. + By W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson. (Printed for Private + Circulation.) + + 1885, Apr. 1. A Child's Garden of Verses. London, Longmans. + + May 15. More New Arabian Nights. The Dynamiter. By R. L. Stevenson + and Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson. London, Longmans. + + Nov. 16. Prince Otto: a Romance. London, Chatto. (_Longman's + Magazine_, Apr.-Oct., 1885.) Macaire. By W. E. Henley and R. L. + Stevenson. (Printed for Private Circulation.) + + 1886, Jan. 15. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. London, + Longmans. + + Aug. 2. Kidnapped: being Memoirs of the Adventures of David Balfour + in the year 1751. London, Cassell. + + Some College Memories. Edinburgh. (30 copies Privately Printed.) + + 1887, Feb. 15. The Merry Men, and other Tales and Fables. London, + Chatto. + + Sept. 1. Underwoods. London, Chatto. + + Dec. 6. Memories and Portraits. London, Chatto. Ticonderoga. + Edinburgh, Clark. (50 copies printed for the author.) Thomas + Stevenson, Civil Engineer. (For Private Distribution.) + + 1888, Jan. 16. Memoir of Fleeming Jenkin. (Prefixed to Papers of + Fleeming Jenkin.) London, Longmans. + + Aug. 15. The Black Arrow: a Tale of the Two Roses. London, Cassell. + (_Young Folks._) + + 1889, July 1. The Wrong Box. By R. L. Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne. + London, Longmans. + + Sept. 16. The Master of Ballantrae: a Winter's Tale. London, + Cassell. (_Scribner's Magazine_, Nov., 1888-Oct., 1889.) + + 1890, Mar. Father Damien: an open Letter to the Reverend Dr. Hyde + of Honolulu. Pp. 32. Sydney. (Privately Printed Edition of 25 + copies.) The South Seas. (Privately Printed.) Ballads. London, + Chatto. (Large paper; 190 copies.) + + 1892, April 16. Across the Plains; with other Memories and Essays. + London, Chatto. + + July 9. The Wrecker. By R. L. Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne. London, + Cassell. (_Scribner's Magazine_, Aug., 1891-July, 1892.) + + Aug. 20. The Beach of Falesa, and The Bottle Imp. London, Cassell. + + Aug. 27. A Footnote to History: Eight Years of Trouble in Samoa. + London, Cassell. + + Dec. 17. Three Plays. Deacon Brodie. Beau Austin. Admiral Guinea. + By W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson. London, Nutt. An Object of + Pity, or the Man Haggard. Imprinted at Amsterdam. [1892.] (For + Private Distribution.) + + 1893, Apr. 15. Island Nights' Entertainments. London, Cassell. + + Sept. 9. Catriona: a Sequel to "Kidnapped." London, Cassell. + + Sept. War in Samoa. Reprinted from the _Pall Mall Gazette_. + + 1894, Sept. 22. The Ebb-Tide: a Trio and a Quartette. By R. L. + Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne. London, Heinemann. (_McClure's + Magazine_, Feb.-July, 1894.) + + Nov. 10. The Suicide Club and The Rajah's Diamond. London, Chatto. + + 1895, Mar. 2. The Amateur Emigrant from the Clyde to Sandy Hook. + Chicago, Stone & Kimball. + + Nov. 9. Vailima Letters. Being Correspondence addressed by R. L. + Stevenson to Sidney Colvin, Nov., 1890-Oct., 1894. London, Methuen. + + 1896, May 23. Weir of Hermiston: an unfinished Romance. London, + Chatto. + + Sept. 5. Songs of Travel, and other Verses. London, Chatto. + Familiar Epistles in Verse and Prose. Pp. 18. (Printed for Private + Distribution.) + + A Mountain Town in France: a Fragment. Pp. 20. London, Lane. + + 1897, Oct. 9. St. Ives: being the Adventures of a French Prisoner + in England. London, Heinemann, 1898 [1897]. + + 1898, Feb. 26. Macaire: a melodramatic Farce. By W. E. Henley and + R. L. Stevenson. London, Heinemann. + + Apr. 16. A Lowden Sabbath Morn. London, Chatto. AEs Triplex. Printed + for the American Subscribers to the Stevenson Memorial. + + 1899, Nov. 18. Letters to his Family and Friends, selected and + edited by Sidney Colvin. 2 vols. London, Methuen. + + 1900, Dec. 22. In the South Seas: Account of Experiences and + Observations in the Marquesas, Paumotus, and Gilbert Islands during + two cruises on the Yacht "Casco," 1888, and the Schooner "Equator," + 1889. London, Chatto. + + +HERMANN SUDERMANN + +30 September 1857- + + 1886, Im Zwielicht: Zwanglose Geschichten. Berlin. + + 1887, Feb. 10. Frau Sorge: Roman. Berlin.--Dame Care. Tr. by + Bertha Overbeck. London, Osgood, 1891; N.Y., Harper, 1891. + + 1888, Jan. 19. Geschwister: Zwei Novellen. Berlin.--The Wish: a + Novel. Tr. by Lily Henkel. London, Unwin, Nov. 3, 1894. + + 1890, Jan. 9. Der Katzensteg: Roman. Berlin.--Regine. From the + German by H. E. Miller. Chicago, Weeks, 1894.--Regina; or, The + Sins of the Fathers. Tr. by Beatrice Marshall. London and N.Y., + Lane, 1898. Die Ehre: Schauspiel. Berlin. + + 1891, Mar. 26. Sodoms Ende: Drama. Berlin. + + 1892, June 2. Iolanthes Hochzeit: Erzaehlung. Stuttgart. + + 1893, Mar. 23. Heimat: Schauspiel. Stuttgart.--Magda. Tr. by C. E. + A. Winslow. Boston, Lamson, 1896. + + 1894, Dec. 6. Es war: Roman. Stuttgart.--The Undying Past. Tr. by + Beatrice Marshall. London, N.Y., Lane, 1906. + + 1895, June 27. Die Schmetterlingschlacht: Komoedie. Stuttgart. + + 1896, Apr. 30. Das Glueck im Winkel: Schauspiel. Stuttgart. + + Dec. 3. Morituri: Teja, Fritzchen, Das Ewigmaennliche. + Stuttgart.--Teias. Tr. by Mary Harned. (_Poet-Lore_, July-Sept., + 1897.) + + 1898, Jan. 27. Johannes: Tragoedie. Stuttgart.--Johannes. Tr. by W. + H. Harned and Mary Harned. (_Poet-Lore_, Apr.-June, 1899.)--John + the Baptist. Tr. by Beatrice Marshall. London, N. Y., Lane, 1909 + [1908]. + + 1899, Feb. 9. Die drei Reiherfedern: ein dramatisches Gedicht. + Stuttgart.--Three Heron's Feathers. Tr. by H. T. Porter. + (_Poet-Lore_, Apr.-June, 1900.) + + 1900, May 23. Drei Reden. Pp. 47. Stuttgart. + + Oct. 25. Johannisfeuer: Schauspiel. Stuttgart.--Fires of St. John. + Tr. by Charlotte + + Porter and H. C. Porter. (_Poet-Lore_, Jan.-Mar., 1904.)--Fires of + St. John. Tr. and adapted by Charles Swickard. Boston, Luce, Nov. + 19, 1904.--St. John's Fire. Tr. by Grace E. Polk. Minneapolis, + Wilson, June 17, 1905. + + 1902, Feb. 27. Es lebe das Leben: Drama. Stuttgart.--The Joy of + Living. Tr. by Edith Wharton. N.Y., Scribner, Nov. 8, 1902. + + Dec. 25. Verrohung in der Theaterkritik: Zeitgemaesse Betrachtungen. + Stuttgart. + + 1903, Oct. 22. Der Sturmgeselle Sokrates: Komoedie. Stuttgart. + + Nov. 12. Die Sturmgesellen: Ein Wort zur Abwehr. Pp. 27. Berlin. + + 1905, Oct. 19. Stein unter Steinen: Schauspiel. Stuttgart. + + Nov. 16. Das Blumenboot: Schauspiel. Stuttgart. + + 1907, Oct. 24. Rosen: Vier Einakter. Stuttgart.--Roses. Tr. by + Grace Frank. N.Y., Scribner, Oct. 9, 1909. + + 1908, Dec. 3. Das hohe Lied: Roman. Stuttgart.--The Song of Songs. + Tr. by Thomas Seltzer. N.Y., Huebsch, Dec., 1909. + + +MRS. HUMPHRY WARD + +(Mary Augusta Arnold) + +11 June 1851- + + 1881, Dec. 17. Milly and Olly; or, A Holiday among the Mountains. + London, Macmillan. + + 1884, Dec. 15. Miss Bretherton. London, Macmillan. + + 1885, Dec. 31. Amiel's Journal Intime, translated by Mrs. Humphry + Ward. 2 vols. London, Macmillan. + + 1888, Mar. 1. Robert Elsmere. 3 vols. London, Smith, Elder. + + 1891, Mar. 14. University Hall: Opening Address. Pp. 45. London, + Smith, Elder. + + 1892, Jan. 23. The History of David Grieve. 3 vols. London, Smith, + Elder. + + 1894, Apr. 7. Marcella. 3 vols. London, Smith, Elder. + + Aug. 4. Unitarians and the Future: the Essex Hall Lecture, 1894. + Pp. 72. London, Green. + + 1895, July 6. The Story of Bessie Costrell. London, Smith, Elder. + (_Cornhill Magazine_, May-July, 1895; _Scribner's Magazine_, + May-July, 1895.) + + 1896, Oct. 3. Sir George Tressady. London, Smith, Elder. (_Century + Magazine_, Nov., 1895-Oct. 1896.) + + 1898, June 11. Helbeck of Bannisdale. London, Smith, Elder. + + 1900, Nov. 10. Eleanor. London, Smith, Elder. (_Harper's Magazine_, + Jan.-Dec., 1900.) + + 1903, Mar. 21. Lady Rose's Daughter. London, Smith, Elder. + (_Harper's Magazine_, May, 1902-Apr., 1903.) + + 1905, Mar. 18. The Marriage of William Ashe. London, Smith, Elder. + (_Harper's Magazine_, June, 1904-May, 1905.) + + 1906, Mar. 3. Play-Time of the Poor. Reprinted from the _Times_. + London, Smith, Elder. + + May 12. Fenwick's Career. London, Smith, Elder. + + 1907, Apr. 27. William Thomas Arnold, Journalist and Historian, by + Mrs. Humphry Ward and C. E. Montague. Manchester, Sherratt. + (Originally published on Feb. 23 as preface to W. T. Arnold's + Fragmentary Studies on Roman Imperialism.) + + 1908, Sept. 19. Diana Mallory. London, Smith, Elder. (The Testing + of Diana Mallory, _Harper's Magazine_, Nov., 1907-Oct., 1908.) + + 1909, May 29. Daphne; or, Marriage a la Mode. London, Cassell. + (N.Y., Doubleday, June 5, under title "Marriage a la Mode.") + (_McClure's Magazine_, Jan.-June, 1909.) + + + + +WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE'S + + A Certain Rich Man + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + Dr. Washington Gladden considered this book of sufficient + importance to take it and the text from which the title was drawn + as his subject for an entire sermon, in the course of which he + said: "In its ethical and social significance it is the most + important piece of fiction that has lately appeared in America. I + do not think that a more trenchant word has been spoken to this + nation since 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' And it is profoundly to be hoped + that this book may do for the prevailing Mammonism what 'Uncle + Tom's Cabin' did for slavery." + + "Mr. White has written a big and satisfying book made up of the + elements of American life as we know them--the familiar humor, + sorrows, ambitions, crimes, sacrifices--revealed to us with + peculiar freshness and vigor in the multitude of human actions and + by the crowd of delightful people who fill his four hundred odd + pages.... It deserves a high place among the novels that deal with + American life. No recent American novel save one has sought to + cover so broad a canvas, or has created so strong an impression of + ambition and of sincerity."--_Chicago Evening Post._ + + +E. B. DEWING'S + + Other People's Houses + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "'Other People's Houses' possesses that distinction of style in + which most of our current American fiction is so lamentably + deficient, and it has in addition the advantage of a theme which is + a grateful relief from the usual saccharine love story admittedly + designed to suit the caramel age.... Miss Dewing has a fine feeling + for comedy and gives evidence of both genuine talent and a fresh + and vivid outlook upon life."--_New York Times._ + + "It is a story rich in atmosphere, in allusion, and in vistas.... + The story is full of action. The characters have virility and in + certain instances charm, and the course of the story awakens no + little concern on the part of the reader. An interesting, varied, + and amusing group of persons is presented, and, ... take it for all + in all, it is a work of taste, discrimination, and power.... Its + publishers may congratulate themselves on having come upon another + oasis in the present desert of American fiction."--_Chicago + Tribune._ + + "If an unknown author is to keep an entire novel to this level, + that author will be unknown no longer, but at a single bound has + reached the height, not only of good American novelists, but of any + novelist doing fiction in these days."--_Chicago Post._ + + PUBLISHED BY + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + 64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York + + +AMONG RECENT NOVELS + + +F. MARION CRAWFORD'S + + Stradella + + _Illustrated, cloth, 12mo, $1.50,_ + + "Schools of fiction have come and gone, but Mr. Crawford has always + remained in favor. There are two reasons for his continued + popularity; he always had a story to tell and he knew how to tell + it. He was a born story teller, and what is more rare, a trained + one."--_The Independent._ + + The White Sister + + _Illustrated cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "Mr. Crawford tells his love story with plenty of that dramatic + instinct which was ever one of his best gifts. We are, as always, + absorbed and amused."--_New York Tribune._ + + "Good stirring romance, simple and poignant."--_Chicago Record + Herald._ + + "His people are always vividly real, invariably + individual."--_Boston Transcript._ + + +ROBERT HERRICK'S + + Together + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "An able book, remarkably so, and one which should find a place in + the library of any woman who is not a fool."--_Editorial in the New + York American._ + + A Life for a Life + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + Mr. W. D. Howells says in the _North American Review_: "What I + should finally say of his work is that it is more broadly based + than that of any other American novelist of his generation.... Mr. + Herrick's fiction is a force for the higher civilization, which to + be widely felt, needs only to be widely known." + + +JAMES LANE ALLEN'S + + The Bride of the Mistletoe + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.25_ + + "He has achieved a work of art more complete in expression than + anything that has yet come from him. It is like a cry of the soul, + so intense one scarcely realizes whether it is put into words or + not."--_Bookman._ + + +WINSTON CHURCHILL'S + + Mr. Crewe's Career + + _Illustrated, cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "Mr. Churchill rises to a level he has never known before and gives + us one of the best stories of American life ever written; ... it is + written out of a sympathy that goes deep.... We go on to the end + with growing appreciation.... It is good to have such a + book."--_New York Tribune._ + + "American realism, American romance, and American doctrine, all + overtraced by the kindliest, most appealing American humor."--_New + York World._ + + +ELLEN GLASGOW'S + + The Romance of a Plain Man + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "To any one who has a genuine interest in American literature there + is no pleasanter thing than to see the work of some good American + writer strengthening and deepening year by year as has the work of + Miss Ellen Glasgow. From the first she has had the power to tell a + strong story, full of human interest, but as the years have passed + and her work has continued it has shown an increasing mellowness + and sympathy. This is particularly evident in 'The Romance of a + Plain Man.'"--_Chicago Daily Tribune._ + + +JACK LONDON'S + + Martin Eden + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + The stirring story of a man who rises by force of sheer ability and + perseverance from the humblest beginning to a position of fame and + influence. The elemental strength, the vigor and determination of + Martin Eden, make him the most interesting character that Mr. + London has ever created. The plan of the novel permits the author + to cover a wide sweep of society, the contrasting types of his + characters giving unfailing variety and interest to the story of + Eden's love and fight. + + +ZONA GALE'S + + Friendship Village + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "As charming as an April day, all showers and sunshine, and + sometimes both together, so that the delighted reader hardly knows + whether laughter or tears are fittest for his emotion.... The book + will stir the feelings deeply."--_New York Times._ + + To be followed by "Friendship Village Love Stories." + + +CHARLES MAJOR'S + + A Gentle Knight of Old Brandenburg + + _Illustrated, cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + Mr. Major has selected a period to the romance of which other + historical novelists have been singularly blind. The boyhood of + Frederick the Great and the strange wooing of his charming sister + Wilhelmina have afforded a theme, rich in its revelation of human + nature and full of romantic situations. + + +MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT'S + + Poppea of the Post Office + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "A rainbow romance, ... tender yet bracing, cheerily stimulating + ... its genial entirety refreshes like a cooling shower."--_Chicago + Record Herald._ + + "There cannot be too many of these books by 'Barbara.' Mrs. Wright + knows good American stock through and through and presents it with + effective simplicity."--_Boston Advertiser._ + + +FRANK DANBY'S + + Sebastian + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + Whenever a father's ideals conflict with a mother's hopes for the + son of their dreams, you meet the currents underlying the plot of + "Sebastian." Its author's skill in making vividly real the types + and conditions of London has never been shown to better advantage. + + +EDEN PHILLPOTTS' + + The Three Brothers + + _Cloth, 12mo, $1.50_ + + "'The Three Brothers' seems to us the best yet of the long series + of these remarkable Dartmoor tales. If Shakespeare had written + novels we can think that some of his pages would have been like + some of these. Here certainly is language, turn of humor, + philosophical play, vigor of incident, such as might have come + straight from Elizabeth's day.... The book is full of a very moving + interest and is agreeable and beautiful."--_The New York Sun._ + +PUBLISHED BY + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +In the plain-text version of this ebook italics are indicated by +_underscores_. + +For ease of navigation, footnotes in the plain-text version have been +placed at the end of the paragraph in which the footnote tag appears. + +Obvious printer errors have been corrected without comment. Otherwise, +the author's original spelling, punctuation, hyphenation and use of +accents have been left intact with the following exceptions: + + 1. Page 153: The letter "s" was added to the word "heroine" in the + phrase: "... the stuff of which heroines are made...." + + 2. Page 276: The word "Bazar" was changed to "Bazaar" in the phrase + "Harper's Bazaar". + + 3. 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